


Things My Heart Used To Know

by lucyinthesoupwithcroutons



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Anastasia AU, CURRENT CANON CAN'T CATCH ME ALIVE, Caleb-typical Issues, Con-man!Caleb, Happy ending don't worry, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Prince!Molly, M/M, Mutual Pining, Princess!Yasha, Romance, background beau/yasha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-06-11 04:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15307752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucyinthesoupwithcroutons/pseuds/lucyinthesoupwithcroutons
Summary: An infernal contract leads to the murder of the royal family. Only Prince Mollymauk and Princess Yasha survive, but become separated during their escape.Caleb and Nott have a cunning plan to seize the reward for the Prince's safe return - the only problem being they lack the right tiefling to play the part.Molly's necklace tells him 'Together in Paris', and so to Paris he is headed - as soon as he can find someone to make him an exit visa, that is.Put it together and you've got adventure, romance, and (if possible) even less historical accuracy than the original movie.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No fics for years and now suddenly I'm trying a multi-chapter, oh man.
> 
> A big big thank you to the WM discord for being enablers, and to Myri and Gray for beta-reading! <3
> 
> EDIT: Apparently some sort of copy/pasting error meant chapter 1 was missing a scene up until now (which probably made the pacing seem a little off and made Kylre's appearance seem to make very little sense, lol) but it's now back in where it should be.

Lightning blazed and thunder rumbled over the towers of the palace as the royal midwife hurried up the driveway, squinting through the pouring rain. She’d almost immediately given up on the idea of shielding herself from the downpour, simply making a beeline for the stone steps with as much speed as she could.

She’d been summoned in the dead of night, bundled into the car by a driver who - even soaking wet as he was - could not have weighed enough to tip the scale against a reasonably-sized hunting dog. Even so, he did his best to stand straight in the buffeting winds, only allowing his gangly form to slump once he made it to the driver’s seat.

The halls of the palace were cast in an eerie light from the storm as she made her way to Empress Orna’s chambers, already rolling up her sleeves and sending out commands for clean towels, hot water, and any other supplies she would need.

The labour was not a particularly easy one, it turned out, but she had been called here over any other midwife for a reason, and finally, after hours of steady work and some clean-up, she had two healthy babies to pass into the Empress’ exhausted arms.

The smaller of the two was a soft violet, with a spindly and delicate tail pressed around his belly, unable to move of its own accord yet, and two soft nubs above his temples, signalling where his horns would someday grow in. For the moment his eyes were screwed shut as he bawled, but if they were anything like her uncle Vanya’s, Orna knew they would likely be a solid colour.

The larger child, who had emerged first, was a stark snow white, the beginnings of a shock of jet black hair already sprouting from her head. The ends seemed to fade to grey or almost white, and when her eyes fluttered open they were each a separate colour - one a bright sky blue, the other a deeper purple.

The storm outside began to calm as the Empress gazed down at her newborns, taking in every last detail, and peace fell around the palace at last.

~

They were fraternal twins, as it turned out – one aasimar and one tiefling - and as they grew, you couldn't find a closer pair in all of Russia than Prince Mollymauk and Princess Yasha.

They spent their childhood years virtually inseparable - running and playing across the vast green lawns, sparring with each other to practice their sword-work and self-defence, giggling back and forth under the stern eyes of their tutors as they were supposed to be going about their lessons - always preferring each other’s company most, though they dearly loved their other siblings as well.

Yasha grew strong, excelling with the greatsword and axes while her brother preferred scimitars and, if possible, to use his uncanny dexterity to dodge an opponent. It served him well while learning to dance also - his feet carrying him across the floor nimbly and gracefully. Yasha preferred dances that were slower, or had a set of prescribed steps to learn, but could be coaxed into attempting something wilder when her brother was the only one around to see. While Molly spent hours trying to imitate the handstands and cartwheels he’d seen the royal bards perform, using the grass of the gardens as a cushion for his falls, Yasha amassed a collection of pressed flowers.

Neither was a fan of their etiquette lessons, but Molly did seem to have a better aptitude for faking it when necessary. Though, he did have a habit of ruining it by refusing to pass up the opportunity for a joke if it presented itself.

~

Thirteen years after their birth, there was a royal ball. It was being held in honour of 300 years of their family's time on the throne - a lavish affair, filled with music and dancing, performers and exquisite dishes - and, of course, the entire royal family was in attendance, including the twins.

~

Falling exhausted into her seat at the top of the room after a dance, Yasha's eyes were drawn to her brother as he revelled. Mollymauk was a practised expert at drawing attention, after all, and tonight he was practically shining as he enjoyed the festivities.

He twirled the entire width of the floor, graceful even in the sparkling high-heeled boots their father had barely let him wear, dipping and bowing and skipping between dance partners at a moment's notice. He spun a final time to bring himself to the base of the steps, and waved himself off from the dancefloor with an expansive hand gesture. She loved to watch him command an audience, and made a show of clapping for him as he approached.

One of his sharp canine fangs had fallen out recently and its adult replacement had just barely started pushing through, so the luminous grin he flashed her had what every woman over twenty in the kingdom called 'just a _darling_ little gap'. They kept a tally of the marriage proposals their parents received for when they were older, and he'd been winning by about three ever since it appeared.

“Moll!” She threw her arms around him, angled in that way her tutor had drilled into her, that would keep the hug from rumpling her formal outfit. “You look so handsome.”

He flopped gracefully into the seat next to hers with his head across the arm-rest and made a show of being worn-out by what a good time he’d been having. She flicked his forehead.

He stuck his tongue out but was still grinning up at her. “You look beautiful too.”

“Even upside-down?” she laughed.

“ _Especially_ upside-down.”

He crossed his legs and propped them up on the other armrest to showcase his boots, just in case there was anyone in the room who hadn’t seen how sparkly they were, but quickly sat up straight when their father shot him The Look.

Yasha took the opportunity to ruffle his hair out of place.

“I think we should have a dance together,” she announced grandly, standing and offering a hand to her brother.

“While we still _can_ , you mean.” He was pouting as he swung upright again, and he probably damn well knew it.

As much fun as they'd been having tonight, they both knew the party marked an ending for them. Their parents had allowed them to stay as long as the ball – given what an auspicious occasion it was, and how much they had pleaded for more time – but come the end of the week they would be taken miles away from home, and from each other, to begin formal schooling.

“ _Molly_.” She pulled him into her chest for a hug, still careful not to disturb her dress too badly. Even with his horns she was taller than him by a decent amount. “You can always come see me in the summer!”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” She gave him a watery smile, ruffling his hair again. “In fact, I'm holding you to it. Nobody in school will tell stories half as good as yours.”

That got a smile out of him.

“And to prove it...” She pulled out the present she had begged their mother to commission for her; a small gold-and-emerald music box that fit neatly into the palm of her hand.

As she heard him gasp, she carefully pulled out the key to turn it, fashioned into a necklace and hung from a gold chain. She kept her eyes carefully on the box, giving the key several small turns, and then held both out where Molly could get a full view. The lid opened and the first few notes slipped out.

“It's playing our lullaby!” He barely seemed to remember to keep his voice under a shout, his eyes wide and his tail swishing entirely uncontrolled behind him. She could almost hear their father's reprimand already, but she didn't care.

“You can play it at night, before you go to sleep,” she could feel her voice starting to crack, and the sting of tears at the corners of her eyes. “And pretend that it's me singing. I'll have one with me just like it, and I'll pretend it's you.”

“Yash...” His voice matched hers, tears threatening to fall at any second. He flung his arms around her again and this time she didn't think once of her dress as she held him tight.

~

The lullaby had started long before they could even remember, just a Fact in their lives, as so many things were. Maybe it had been passed from some great-grandmother, or their mother had picked it up from somewhere over the years, but every night since they were infants, they'd been lulled to sleep by it.

Their tears had been dried to it, their fears had been faced down to its tune, and once they grew too old to be sung to sleep by their mother, they'd taken to singing it to each other before they let themselves go quiet each night. At times when one of them had had a bad dream, they'd climb into the other's bed and let it ease their nightmares away too.

“...Soon you'll be,” Yasha sang with the music box.

“...home with me,” Molly joined her for the finish, his voice rising up into a harmony to accompany the lower notes she sang. “Once upon a December....”

“Read what it says.” She handed him the necklace, engraved with his name in the centre, and the words _Together in Paris_ framing it.

“Together in...” His eyes lit up and his tail's swishing amped up to the point where it could easily have somebody's eye out if they came up behind him. “Oh Yasha, _really?!_ ”

“Jester said we can come stay together in Aunt Ruby’s estate _any_ time we're allowed out of school!” Her eyes were starting to brim again.

They'd both been so down about the prospect of only reuniting when they made the full journey home each year. She'd reasoned that Paris was just about midway between their respective schools, so had asked their Aunt Ruby about the possibility, and as soon as she'd heard the news from Jester she'd started planning how to surprise him.

“We won't... we won't have to be apart all year. We can _see_ each other!” Molly was literally bouncing up and down at this point.

He squeezed his arms around her with all the strength he had in his wiry little body and then scampered up to their room to put the box somewhere safe.

He was back in a flash, eyes bright as he fastened the necklace then clutched his hands around it in delight. She was tackled with a another hug then, before he pulled her onto the dance floor, absolutely beaming.

His delight was contagious as he spun them across the floor, drawing stares from everyone yet utterly uncaring, and Yasha couldn’t help but get swept up, laughing and twirling through the next several songs.

Had she known what would come next, she'd have been more sure to savour it.

~

The doors to the hall slammed open with more force than a single person should have been able to generate, and in the doorway stood Kylre, the Devil-Toad.  
  
Shadows seemed to follow in his wake as he strode into the hall, straight towards the thrones.  
  
He had been a trusted confidant to their father until recently, this much Yasha knew, but something had changed. Suddenly he had been cast out in disgrace and every child in the palace had been warned to flee if they ever saw him coming back. Nobody would tell them why, just that he had done the unnatural, and the treasonous, and was now no longer the holy man he had claimed to be.  
  
Their father stepped forward, furious, with his chest puffed out. “How _dare_ you come here tonight!”  
  
“But,” said Kylre with a sneer, in a voice that seemed to drip with oil. “I am your royal confidant, who has served you so well these many years, only to be cast out when you grew tired! A stunning show of cruelty.”  
  
“You know damn well what you did, and you have been _banished_ for it! Now leave at once!”  
  
“Not so fast, Gustav, for _I_ have come to banish _you_.” He stabbed his finger into their father’s chest and a gasp rang around the hall. He pulled out a glass reliquary with a faint ethereal glow and spoke: “By the contract I have sold my very soul to secure, I hereby declare - that none of royal blood shall ever again set foot in this palace and be allowed to live! I will not rest until it is so!”   
  
Some sort of otherworldly pact now sealed, spectral Infernal creatures began to swarm up out of the shadows surrounding him, their wicked eyes and sharp teeth showing in their feral grins.  
  
Molly spread his arms and widened his stance in front of Yasha, starting to back them as much away from Kylre as possible, his tail swishing nervously behind him. She grabbed his shoulders firmly in case he decided to do anything stupid.  
  
“I will drive you and your ilk to death or ruination, even if it is the last thing I do!” The Devil-Toad screeched, the unholy sound of it reverberating around the walls as he disappeared in a cloud of green smoke.   
  
The creatures themselves flew in every direction - Yasha huddled Molly to the floor, covering his head with her arms and burying her face in his shoulder - but rather than attacking, they flew out into the night.  
  
There were a few blessed moments of silence before they heard the sound of a gate slamming open and the approaching angry shouts.

~

The crowd in the hall were still and silent until the very first gunshot rang out in the distance and their father shouted at them from across the room to run, to get to safety.

Everything seemed to happen very quickly after that.

~

The people started streaming in any direction that was _away_ from the shot. Small enough to duck and weave through gaps in the crowd that others couldn’t, the twins fought their way up to the landing, headed towards whatever exit they could find.

As they passed one of the larger windows overlooking the palace grounds, they saw absolute mayhem outside. Angry crowds and soldiers were storming the palace, parts of it had already been set aflame by thrown torches, windows were smashed, people were running and screaming - they had never seen anything even close to it in their lives.

They took off at a run again, but suddenly Molly stopped.

“My music box!”

His hand slipped from hers and she turned to find him sprinting towards their room.

“Molly, no!” She tore after him, dropping every curse word she’d ever heard on the way, but the dress stifled her movements and he was inside the room by the time she caught him.

“Molly! Molly, we have to—”

There was another gunshot, this time from a direction that could only be inside the palace. Molly’s pointed ears flattened against his head in fright.

Before they could reach the door, hands were pulling them back. She turned to see one of the kitchen boys - he was trying to lead them to an opening in the wall.

“Out this way! Through the servant’s quarters!” he shouted, a German accent laced through his words.

A thunk sounded behind them when they were almost into the passage, as Molly’s shaking hands lost the music box.

“No!” He tried to run back for it but Yasha brought her arms around his waist like a vice, leaving him wriggling and grasping at thin air, his tail thumping against her leg. There was no way she’d allow him to do something so stupidly impulsive a second time.

“Go, go! I’ll get it!” The kitchen boy was already lunging for the spot where it had fallen, motioning for them to keep moving.

Inside the hidden corridor, Yasha was livid. “Mollymauk, don’t you _ever_ —”

There were more shots and raised voices, far too close for comfort this time. They froze as the kitchen boy backed against the panel, swinging it closed to hide them.

She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled Mollymauk against her chest to ensure he'd stay silent as the sound of heavy boots stormed into the room they'd just left.

She held him tight through muffled angry questioning, through the sound of a scuffle and a young boy's cry, and finally through the thump of a small body dropping to the floor.

She tightened her grip even further, afraid even the pair's silent shaking might alert the soldiers somehow. The moment there was silence, they exchanged a single tear-filled look before they bolted through the narrow passage, neither daring to look back.

~

Their breath plumed into the cold night air as they ran, hands clasped tight between them as they their feet pounded into the thick snow.

 _That kitchen boy saved us,_ was all Yasha could think.

 _If he hadn_ _’t closed the passage-_

 _If we_ _’d tried to go back through the hallway-_

_If those men had-_

She fought down a wave of nausea, wondering if he was still alive. _Do I even know his_ name _?_

Molly interrupted her thoughts.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Yasha, all I could think— it was all I’d have of you, I-I wasn’t thinking, I—” The gravity of the situation seemed to have sunk in. His voice was high and shaking. He sounded so small as he broke off on a choked sob.  
  
His tendency to get distracted or go off on a flight of fancy at the worst times was usually fairly benign, but tonight…

She shook her head violently to put a stop to that train of thought before it could start again. It could wait.

She’d give him hell when they were both safe and sound - but not a moment sooner.

“It’s alright. Just run!”

They took the hill leading down to the river at a dangerous pace, half-sliding more of the way down than they ran, but it was mercifully free of people. Yasha prayed that the ice on the river had formed thickly enough to support their weight.

It held as they took their first hurried steps, their formal shoes alternately clacking and sliding against the surface, and they did their best to ignore the ominous cracks and groans occasionally coming from deep below. They passed beneath the bridge and a dark swirl of fabrics dropped towards them. Yasha turned in time to see Mollymauk go down with a cry, a fiendish hand wrapped around his ankle, and barely managed to avoid falling herself, in her efforts to keep his hand in hers.

Kylre’s face sneered up at them both from where he was crouched on the ice. Hairline fissures were starting to spread around where the Devil-Toad had landed. She locked eyes with Molly, who had frozen momentarily - he’d seen them too.

“Thought you could escape, little princeling?” He cackled as Molly struggled to free himself, as Yasha tried to pull him loose or at least pull them backwards, racing the clock before the inevitable happened. “You and your darling sister?”

There was a shift beneath them then, accompanied by a deep groaning sound, spiderweb network of cracks finally led to the ice giving way beneath The Devil Toad’s feet.

For a brief moment Yasha feared Kylre would drag them both into the freezing water with him, but in a panic he released his grip to scrabble at the collapsing frozen surface all around him. Mollymauk pulled free and they bolted again, looking back only when they’d reached the safety of the riverbank.

In the shadow of the bridge, Kylre was fighting a losing battle against the ice he’d shattered. He was waist-deep in the freezing water already, still trying without any success to gain purchase somewhere, when his final support broke off and he disappeared under the inky black surface with a strangled screech.

They waited one… two… three… seconds, breath held, to be sure he was gone, immobile on the bank of the river, until another distant gunshot reminded them they were still nowhere near safety.

~

The crowd around the train station was thick and frantic, the whole city tossed into disarray by what was happening at the palace. Babies were crying, everyone was shouting, the train—

_Shit._

The train was pulling out of the station already!

Yasha and Mollymauk surged forward, pushing through the crowd, their only goal to get on board before it reached full speed.

Yasha’s lungs burned as they finally caught up to the last carriage.

_Just a little further now._

Finally, blessedly, she found herself within reach of the people at the back of the train. They pulled her onboard, what felt like a hundred different hands propelling her up, and she turned to do the same for Mollymauk.

Her heart leapt as she saw him struggling to keep up, the train moving faster than she’d thought. His eyes were blown wide and she could see each frantic breath misting in the air around him.

“Molly! Take my hand!” She leaned as far out as she dared, the people behind her keeping her from toppling headfirst onto the tracks, and grasped his hand firmly in hers.

“Don’t let go!” He barely managed to gasp out, tears shining at the corners of his eyes, every ounce of air dedicated to keeping him running. “Don’t let go!”

Her arm felt like it was about to be yanked out of its socket, even with her brother sprinting at full speed, he couldn’t seem to catch up fully.

His hand was slipping from hers.

They were moving too fast.

Like a bowstring snapping, he let out a yelp and his hand was ripped from hers.

She cried out a wordless screech of horror as she saw him topple backwards, his slim form slamming to the ground, and his head making a crack against the cobblestones that she swore she could hear even over the crowd.

“ _MOLLY!_ ” She watched him fall limp, suddenly seeming so _tiny_ and so fragile. Her heart thudded in her chest and all she could think of was getting to him, how he was lying prone at the feet of so many frantic and frightened people, how easily he could be trampled by the escaping crowds. “Molly!”

The train, uncaring and relentless, continued its acceleration as she struggled to get back off it.

All she could think of was getting off it. Of getting back to him.

But strong arms held her tight as she fought, and try as she might, she couldn’t free herself before her brother was swallowed up by the crowd and the train reached its full speed. She could only watch St. Petersburg disappear behind her, and with it, everything she’d ever known.

“ _Molly!_ ”

 

* * *

 

Bonus content:

One of the wonderful sketches Byzantiine did while we all flailed about planning this au originally.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, posting this got a bit delayed since, uh... episode 26 kind of murdered most of us and it's been hard to keep up the writing.
> 
> Thanks again to the WM discord for being full of lovely people, and to Myri and Fern for beta-reading <3

There's a tale that gets passed through the streets of St. Petersburg for years afterwards: Yasha, the princess, escaped with her life on that fateful night, but her twin brother Mollymauk, the young prince, fell from their escaping train, straight from her arms, and was never seen again.

 The violence visited on the rest of the family that night had left no-one uncertain of his fate, despite the lack of a body; either he was trampled to death in the crowd as another anonymous face, or he was recognised and slaughtered. A 13 year old boy raised in the lap of luxury, left alone that night, could no more have survived the streets of Russia than a newborn baby. All were certain of this, it was whispered, except the poor princess. She had been pulled away on that train to her intended place of schooling – howling the entire way to be allowed go back to find her brother, only the firm grasp of the other passengers keeping her from leaping bodily from the train at first – to stay in safety and grow into the legacy she would now inherit alone.

 Those who lived and worked near the ports and the train station heard tales of how she spent her holidays and summers in Paris, searching and leaving word with whoever would listen, to tell him she would still meet him there, just where they'd agreed, and that she would keep going until the day she found him. It became a cautionary tale of sorts after a few years: to not let your grief make you that foolish, lead you so far astray with false hope. There were plenty of tieflings in St. Petersburg, and yes, a decent few of them were lavender ones, but heir to the throne? The lost twin brother of the princess, still alive after all this time? A brand of foolishness nobody but a royal brat could be allowed to indulge in, _so keep your head down and do your work, alright?_

 ~

Caleb was well aware of all of this, spending so much of his life surviving on the information he gleaned on the city's streets.

For the first terrifying and overwhelming few months of adjustment to the new way of things in the city, after leaving the hospital, he was reluctant to admit it gave him hope too. That maybe the cheerful smile and easy demeanour of the boy he remembered _hadn't_ been wiped from this world so carelessly and so easily. That even if his parents hadn’t made it out that night, maybe he’d managed to save two other lives in their stead. That maybe the livid burn scars decorating his left shoulder since the night the palace fell had actually been for something, in the end.

He sighed bitterly, thinking back on a time when he had had the luxury of being that young, that naive, before he plastered on a fake grin and threw open the doors to his makeshift 'audition room'.

“So!” He clapped his hands together, taking in the line of purple tieflings waiting to be seen in the hall. “Who is first?”

~

The city had been buzzing for days now with the enticing new addition to the old rumour: not only was the princess, now a young woman in her twenties, finally deemed adult enough to assume what was left of the royal mantle, but her first act had been to offer a _substantial_ reward to anyone who could reunite her with her lost brother.

News unfortunately travelled slowly from Paris these days, the border controls being what they were, and she must have seen _months_ worth of applications by the time it found its way to the city – and therefore to Caleb's ears – but the word was that the search was still on. It made sense, he supposed, given that there was no crown-prince to actually _find_ anymore, but it still added a sense of urgency. Some conman was going to be the first to present her with a convincing enough case, and by the gods it was going to be _him_ if he could help it.

A conscience wasn't something he had much use for in his life these days – it tended to get in the way of surviving – but his long-dormant one did give a little twinge at the thought. He was a lot of things, but _cruel_ had never been one of them, and during his time at the palace, the princess had seemed nothing but kind. He’d never done a job where the deception could cause this much damage when it unravelled.

The thing _was_ , though, that no Mollymauk she met with would ever actually be the one she longed for, and the poor deluded woman would surely be presented with a real-enough-seeming one to trick her at some stage. He was only hurrying up the final result of the whole charade in the end, really - not to mention securing himself, Nott, and some lucky purple bastard a ticket out of this hell.

He held onto that thought through the first few rounds of auditions, and after that an ever-increasing sense of irritation and indignation carried him through the rest.

~

“ _Nein_ , _nein_ , NEIN _!_ ” He cried, ejecting the fifth tiefling today who wasn't even _lavender_ for gods' sakes. He stomped to the hallway and tore his makeshift sign from the wall, where Nott had anchored it with a dagger.

“What does this say?!” He waved it in the nearest few faces, not even waiting for a reply. “Does this not _specifically_ say I am looking for a lavender tiefling?”

He threw his hands out in frustration. The gesture, he realised slightly too late to try and stop it, _should_ have impacted with a nearby candidate's horns, but instead his hand went straight through. His eyes narrowed.

Manically he gestured across the hallway, casting _dispel magic_ in a wave over the area, and suddenly a sea of disguise spells dropped around him. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How long were you planning to spend with the empress before she noticed you were a _drow_ and not a tiefling, _arschloch_?” He yelled at the nearest one, patience worn wafer-thin at this point. He pointed to the door at the far end of the hall. “Everyone who is not naturally horned and purple, please get out of my sight!”

It left him with a much shorter list of people to interview, and not one among them could pass as somebody who'd ever spent time as a royal. One in particular, no matter how many times Caleb corrected him, had insisted on pronouncing it 'mollymuck'. Another had paused every other sentence to reflexively spit on the floor.

It had been a long day.

He sighed with his forehead pressed into the wood of the table, letting Frumpkin’s purring ease some of the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t bother to look up when he felt Nott's hand on his back.

“We'll have more tomorrow, Caleb. Don't worry.” Her voice was mildly muffled, so he guessed she was wearing her mask instead of her disguise spell now. “There’s… There’s plenty more tieflings in the sea!”

He huffed out a laugh.

“You are right, little one.” Standing and picking her up, he gave them a short spin across the room, then patted her head as he set her down on her feet again. “You always know just what to say.”

 

~

 

Down by the docks the air was chilly, but crisp and refreshing, as the ships sailed in and out of port.

A dozen or so feet up, tucked away on top of a precarious pile of shipping crates, one long leg hanging lazily over the edge, sat a purple-skinned tiefling. The other leg was drawn up, and his bejewelled horned head rested on it, red eyes fixed on the shining trinket hanging from his hand. He let it twist slowly in the air, the light dancing across the engraved message:

_Molly._

_Together In Paris._

For the third day in a row, Molly was lost in thought, staring at his necklace as if it might suddenly come forward with answers after a decade of silence.

He considered that a bad sign.

He often lost a few hours to letting his mind wander about it - that was nothing new - but then he'd damn well shake it off and get back to his jobs. The fact that he'd found it idly draping over his fingers for multiple days in a row, well... That probably meant it was _finally_ time to start what he'd been putting off for so long.

He swore silently as he placed it back around his neck, then dropped to the snow-covered ground, his coat swirling around him. He'd really been hoping he could avoid this.

~

Ironically, when he'd first been released from the orphanage five years ago – his only possessions the necklace and a coat he habitually added more decoration to when bored – it was _all_ he'd wanted to do. He'd had it all planned out in his head – get to St. Petersburg, buy a ticket to Paris, then find his lost family.

Even when he'd run into the problem of a ticket to Paris involving _money_ , he'd just added it to his list – earn the money, buy the ticket, find his home. Except, in the nearly two years it had taken him to set enough aside for a ticket, he'd found he _liked_ it here in the city. It was hard going sometimes, but by the gods it made him feel alive.

Back in the orphanage he'd found he had some skills – though he couldn't know where he'd learned them originally – that made him useful to the other children. He could sew and even embroider, so clothes were mended and made prettier by his hands. He found he did well with bedtime stories for the younger children too, though at first he had to pull the plots out of thin air since he had no memories to work from. It was almost – but not quite – enough to balance out the fact that he was purple, and horned, and gangly, and _weird_.

~

_The mid-afternoon sun streamed through the windows, falling lazily over Molly, cross-legged on the rug at the foot of one of the beds. He rubbed at the headache beginning to form around his temples._

_Not for the first time, two of his dorm-mates_ _’ bickering was starting to escalate towards an actual fist-fight._

“ _Tomorrow’s adoption day, wouldn’t wanna mess up our pretty faces now, would we?” He called up absently, not yet looking up from the new design he was stitching into his coat-sleeve._

 _A short, bitter laugh came from above, and a freckled face appeared over the end of the bed, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail._ _“Get real, Molly.”_

“ _Well why not? That’s what they come here for, right? Maybe we’ve just been unlucky so far.”_

 _It sounded a little hollow, even to his own ears. A few years_ _’ worth of adoption days seemed a long time to just be unlucky._

“ _Heh. Sometimes I forget you’re actually a three year old.” Her smile was more cruel than friendly as she looked down at him. She’d been here since long before he had, and was nearing adulthood. “They’re not gonna take us when there’s a fresh crop of_ adorable little babies _. Gotta be pretty convincing about being another mouth to feed, Molly - we_ _’re just not cute enough anymore.”_

“ _Maybe_ you _aren_ _’t.” He gave the girl a light shove, let his sneer cover up the sting he felt. Didn’t let her see the shot had landed as he fidgeted with his necklace. “Doesn’t matter anyway - you know I’ve got a_ real _family out there waiting for me._ _”_

_A collective groan rattled through the dorm._

“ _Oh gods, not_ this _again,_ _” said one of the boys who’d been part of the escalating argument before this distraction, now flopping backwards onto his bed._

“ _I do, though!” He protested, not noticing the uneasy silence in the room. “’Together in Paris!’ I just have to get there to find them! They’ll be so happy to see me, you’ll see!”_

“ _When you gonna give this up, kid?” Another one of the children nearing adulthood asked. He rolled over in his bunk, facing the wall, sounding resigned. “Nobody’s coming for any of us, nobody’s waiting for any of us - nobody cares about us.”_

“ _That’s not true…” Molly could feel tears welling up now._

“ _You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” The girl’s lip curled, her hands clenching and unclenching in her lap._

Looking back as an adult, he could see exactly what was happening. As a child, however…

“ _No! Whoever gave me this, it means they care about me!” He cried, tugging it out from his chest and brandishing it at the room, like a talisman against their lies. “Somebody loves me! Somebody_ wants _me! Some_ _—_ _”_

Twack!

_Her fist connected sharply with his cheekbone. The next thing he knew she was standing over him._

“ _Just shut up and stop acting better than the rest of us!” She was crying too, her eyes screwed up in fury. Usually they did their best not to shout, even during fights - it brought down trouble on their heads. She was howling now though, uncaring. “You’ll leave here in two years for a shitty job like everyone else! You’ll never get to Paris! And you’ll probably_ sell _that stupid necklace for_ food _!_ _”_

 _He spat back his reply in that hissing, whispering language - the one that nobody else he_ _’d ever met knew how to speak - injecting all the venom and hurt he felt into his delivery. She recoiled as he’d hoped, her eyes wide and her nose starting to bleed._

_Somewhere underneath his anger he felt slightly sick as she turned and stormed out._

_He had a black eye for adoption day, and in the six months between then and when she left to begin her working life, she didn_ _’t speak to him once._

~

When he reached the city at 18 - choosing to immediately abandon a job gutting fish in favour of, well, _anything else_ \- it was with a purpose and a sense of wonder. The scale of it was far beyond anything he’d encountered in the orphanage, and the sheer variety of people delighted him.

He finally met other tieflings - Infernal, it turned out his mysterious language was called! - and saw the variety of colours they could come in. He’d assumed purple was the only one, but there was a scattering of blues, reds, and even a few pale whites.

Molly never stayed under one roof too long. The reason had mostly been lack of money to start with, but he kept the habit even after he started getting paid. Something about half a decade spent in the same bed - not to mention the same room, the same house, and many of the exact same people - had him itching for novelty and experience.

The ability to sew and mend kept him in demand to a certain extent, and a newly discovered aptitude for handling blades meant he found plenty of work as a sell-sword. Not to mention there was always coin to be found moving boxes by the docks.

He worked, he fought, he stole, he bartered, and between all of it, made enough coin both to get by and to set some aside for his train to Paris.

On a whim, a few months in, he asked a familiar face from the docks to give him a tattoo, just like all the handsome sailors had. He’d taken a fancy to one of the mates, who had a design of intertwining ropes inked down his left arm, wrapping around an anchor on his bicep.

‘Go big or go home’ was a philosophy Molly ascribed to - and since he essentially didn’t have a home, this meant he _always_ went big - so his very first tattoo was a sprawling, intricate floral piece, leading down to a snake which swallowed most of his right hand. By the time it was finished he was laid across the artist’s table, flushed and dripping with sweat, the wood on his left side a splintered mess from where his claws had dug in. The ship’s healer begrudgingly spent a spell to keep him from keeling over when he stood up, and when he first saw his reflection afterwards, it was a like a magic all of its own.

The last time he’d seen himself in a decent-sized mirror could have been before he left the orphanage - also it most likely hadn’t been with his shirt off - and he let his eyes roam over every detail with awe. The bold black lines and colours of the tattoo complemented his skin perfectly, with the reds, in particular, bringing out his eyes. Still breathing hard, he saw for the first time the visual evidence of the lean muscle that had built up these last few months, saw the network of scars and fresh nicks across his torso from sword-fights, saw, above all, a grown man.

This wasn’t Little Orphan Molly. No. This was somebody _new_ and he _loved_ it.

He soon picked up an extensive collection of both tattoos and piercings to decorate himself – often using money he should have been spending on _food_ \- and after near enough to two years he was a brilliant blaze of colour and shining metal.

Finally, not long after adding a peacock tattoo that twined all the way up his neck and the side of his cheek, Molly found himself at the end of a particularly well-executed job, being handed enough gold to make his plans a reality. Two years of work had finally culminated in him getting everything he’d been working towards.

He’d practically skipped most of the way to the train station, then started to feel nauseous. The great spectre of the Unknown loomed in front of him suddenly, and it was _terrifying_.

Molly of Before was still lost to him, might continue to be forever; Orphan Molly, he wouldn’t return to, even if he _could_ ; Molly the Fishmonger never ended up existing in the first place; Molly of the Future was… a mystery - and a frightening one at that.

His present life was rough in many ways, but he was good at it; he knew how it worked! Finding himself five feet from the ticket booth - about to abandon the only place in his seven years of memories that he’d found a fit for himself, or felt anything close to belonging in - he’d faltered.

Then he’d turned tail and ran.

In a fit of denial, he’d told himself that if he could leave the city at any time, there was no solid reason why he had to leave it _right then_. He still had some loose ends to tie up, after all. He even had a promising flirtation in progress with the woman whose attic he was currently squatting in. What was the rush?

Every time Paris came to mind in the intervening years, he thought ‘what’s the rush?’ then threw himself into the nearest available job, bed, or other convenient distraction until the feeling passed. He could ignore the empty feeling in his chest just fine if he kept himself busy.

But now, a decade after being found on the streets and five years after arriving in the city, the time had finally come where he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Dammit.

~

He was already wearing most of what he owned, but packed the rest - essentially a change of clothes, a small bag of make-up and his bedroll - into a battered suitcase he’d bought on the way home. After some goodbyes, he marched himself right to the train station, taking deep breaths to keep his nerves steady.

~

“A ticket to Paris please, my good sir!” he announced, hopefully sounding more confident than he felt.

Things were fine. He’d made it all the way to the counter this time and he hadn’t run.

“Visa?” a bored voice drawled at him, its owner not even looking up from his paper.

Things were apparently not fine.

“Uh… visa?”

“Nobody leaves the city without a visa - next please!”

“ _Wait,_ where do I- _oof_.” He was shunted off to the side by the person behind him before he could even finish the sentence, landing on his ass in the dirt.

“ _Psst!_ ” a voice from behind him whispered. It turned out to belong to an aged woman with a faded shawl over her head. She looked around furtively. “You need a visa?”

Molly nodded fervently, still on the ground. She rolled her eyes and pulled him up, grip shockingly strong.

“Go see Caleb, living up in the old palace; he’ll get you what you need.” She slapped him on the back and winked, turning away already to blend in with the crowd. “But you didn’t hear it from _me_!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Current canon is, uh, still making writing this a little harder than it should be, but in this house we love Molly, so we keep on trucking.
> 
> Big thanks again to Myri and Fern for the beta!
> 
> (Also thank you everyone for the comments, my heart swells everytime I get one <3)

There wasn ’t much in the way of law enforcement around the palace these days - for the simple reason of there being no need for it - but Molly still chose climbing a fence over taking the direct approach. It was half out of habit more than anything, since this ‘Caleb’ guy clearly had little trouble coming and going, but it never hurt to have the element of surprise in case you needed it.

He trudged, ankle-deep in a blanket of snow, towards what looked like a back entrance. There was far too much open ground here; nowhere to duck into, to hide, nothing to climb besides a few trees, spaced too far apart to be helpful. No wonder his footsteps were the only ones visible.

This half of the city was mostly unfamiliar to him, despite how often he moved around - something he suspected was to do with it being near where he was found as a child. 

His memories of that time were scattered, hazy at best for the most part, but he did remember the feeling of biting cold, the confusion, the crushing, bone-deep loneliness …

And  _ besides _ , the palace in particular had always looked uninviting to him. Row upon row of darkened, empty windows stared disapprovingly over the city, several of them smashed in or showing signs of fire damage, and a section of roof on the far side seemed to have caved in at some point. Not to mention, this was the part of St. Petersburg a person came to to do a hard day ’s work - something Molly never was overly interested in. At least down by the docks you could flirt with the sailors if you were taking odd jobs. You could try and drink them under the table at the end of the day too.

He finally reached what looked to be the entrance to the kitchens. The door was flung open - hanging on by a single hinge, falling to rust, and half buried in snow - while a few hastily nailed wooden boards blocked the doorway. He pried two off without much trouble and wriggled through the gap.

This area seemed to have been mostly untouched in the siege, though clearly abandoned in quite a hurry. He took the stairs two at a time up to a lavishly set table, sitting as if it was expecting guests any moment, except that everything sat under a decade-old layer of dust.

There was something about the place - something that niggled at the back of his mind but wouldn ’t make its way forward. He wandered, letting his feet carry him as his eyes roamed about, over the plush carpets and intricate tapestries, stopping every so often to inspect something that caught his eye. He found himself just off what seemed to be the main hall, or some sort of dancefloor, unable to tear his eyes off a squat, round vase with an inlay of gold leaf and small gems, depicting a troupe of dancing bears on the lid. The body of the vase was delicately painted with a series of swans, each one with its wings spread a little wider, eventually leading to one in full flight. He began to hum absently as he examined it, tilting it this way and that until he’d cast his eyes over every inch.

“ _Dancing bears_ _… painted wings…_ ” he started to sing under his breath as he pulled away from it, wandering almost trance-like towards the grand ballroom. “ _Things I almost remember_ _… And a song, someone sings… once upon a December…_ ” 

“ _Someone holds me, safe and warm_. ” He hugged his arms around his own chest, swaying, letting the words fall from his mouth without conscious thought. He knew somewhere deep down that if he tried to pin this down or chase it, it would fall away from him as easily as it had come. “ _Horses prance through a silver storm. Figures dancing gracefully, across my memory_ _…_ ”

As he twirled across the floor he could feel something returning to him, something lost so long ago, and dearly,  _ dearly _ missed. His eyes slipped closed and he saw the hall not as it was, but as it must have been years ago - filled with conversation and laughter, graceful dancing, dress-skirts swirling and soft music playing. He saw himself flanked by familiar and friendly faces, one from either side reaching out to take his hand and lead him towards a man, smiling down at him approvingly. He was dressed immaculately and radiated a commanding air, but Molly only felt warmth in his heart when he came face-to-face with him. They took a few turns across the floor and then concluded with a bow as a regal woman tugged him away to take a turn.

“ _Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember_ _… Things my heart, used to know…_ ” He felt the same warmth as before when this older woman enveloped him in a hug. Their time together felt shorter, as before they even found time to dance, she turned him towards the top of the room, where a solitary figure stood. “ _Things it yearns to remember_ _…_ ”

He couldn ’t make out any detail of her face, as much as he instinctively knew the importance of it. She was taller than him by at least a head, and her hand was stretched out towards him. Her paper-white skin seemed nearly out of place here, its pallor highlighted even further by the contrast of the raven-black hair piled high atop her head, and she felt so, so desperately familiar. Molly ached to reach out for her, to take that hand. 

“ _And a song_ _… someone sings… once upon…_ ” He felt his voice climbing for notes it wasn't quite able to reach, as much as they felt like the next step in the melody. He tried to push it slightly – afraid any deviation from where his… heart? his memories? were trying to lead him would shatter everything – but the next note was just as out of reach for him and came out only as a breathy squeak, hurting his throat. 

The attempt was lost completely as a cough caught him, all the old dust he ’d kicked up scratching the back of his throat, and when he caught his breath again, the spell had indeed broken. The room was old, dusty and devoid of colour again, the dancefloor empty but for him.

Absolute silence reigned again, oppressive and impenetrable.

He huffed out a sigh that verged on a light sob as he wandered back to the grand staircase. He slumped down onto the steps, letting his head fall against the banisters with a soft _ thunk _ and another sigh. 

Everything that had felt so clear in his mind as he sang was starting to fade back into those murky corners of his brain he couldn ’t reach, but the empty space in his chest ached, left bleeding and raw by whatever he’d just experienced.

“ _Fuck!_ ” He screamed into the void of the room, hurling one of his swords across the floor, where it caused a small avalanche of dishware to cascade onto the tiles.

“Fuck…” He muttered again, this time quiet and defeated, letting his head knock back down against the banister.

~

Caleb had only moved homes once before, when he and his parents moved from Germany to find work in St. Petersburg, but it had come roaring back to him immediately just how much he hated the process of  _ packing _ .

It wasn ’t as if he had much of a life here - after all, that’s why they were counting on this con to take them somewhere better - but the process of reducing it all down to two suitcases he could carry still grated on him. 

Possibly it was knowing he ’d have to leave so much comforting familiarity behind. He’d been living in this palace since he was a small boy, after all; though the circumstances of it had certainly changed abruptly after the siege. 

Clothes, he didn ’t have many to speak of, so could fit in all that he owned without any trouble. Books, on the other hand…

He cast his eyes around the study. It had belonged to some cousin or uncle of the Tsar - Caleb hadn ’t ever bothered learning his name, but did remember the odd spell components he’d order from the kitchen staff at all hours - and Caleb had quickly appropriated it once he was no longer around to use it. He’d spent countless hours poring over the man’s private library of magical tomes, teaching himself to eventually become a wizard in his own right, and he was loath to leave any behind.

The ones on Magical Theory he could leave more easily; they existed forever in his steel trap of a brain and were almost all extremely large. He ’d copied anything of use from the spell compendiums into his own spellbook by now - the former owner’s supply of fine paper and ink thankfully untouched by any of the fires - so he supposed they could stay behind as well. The biographies of famous wizards, he’d never overly cared for…

He continued on like this until he was able to reduce his load down to just two extremely important books - these fit neatly into his book holsters, so wouldn ’t occupy space in his suitcase anyway - and what remained of the paper and ink. Nott would certainly be proud when he told her.

He wandered up to their room, dropping what he ’d taken from the study onto his desk before falling back onto the bed with a sigh, one of his legs still mostly hanging off the side.

At the rate they were going, they ’d have no tiefling to take to Paris anyway.

A sparkle caught his eye and he turned to pick up the gold-and-emerald trinket on his bedside table. It had a nice weight to it, the cool metal always feeling pleasant in his hands. He ran his thumb absently over the … jewellery box? Ornament? After all this time he still wasn't sure what it actually  _ was _ . 

Truth be told, he didn't know quite why he'd kept the thing down through all these years. Royal heirlooms weren't  _ entirely _ uncommon given how easy it was to access the abandoned palace – though this was certainly a good one, since it had Prince Mollymauk's name engraved on the bottom – but they did still fetch a decent price all the same. He could have easily handed it over for some gold or a decent meal some evening he was going hungry, but something always had him decide at the last minute that he should hold onto it. 

He sighed again.

The vibrant young prince had been willing to endanger his life to go back for it that night, and Caleb had paid a steep price trying to grant him that wish. No matter how many times his rational mind reminded him that running for some knick-knack in the midst of a bloody revolution was the hasty action of a spoilt child – or that his own attempt to retrieve it for the boy, instead of escaping while he had the chance, was foolishness - he couldn't help but think how important it had seemed to Mollymauk. How it was one of the last things he ’d wished for before his death out on the cold streets. How he'd looked so small, and scared, and desperate.

_ That soft streak running through you will get you killed someday if you don't stamp it out _ , he reprimanded himself, as he always did when his thoughts drifted this way.

He shook himself out of his thoughts. Whatever reasons had kept it with him, he should be glad of them now - it was going to be the linchpin in their con.

Many had likely tried to take the reward from the princess, but none of them had  _ this _ .

He was about to roll over for a quick nap, but a crash from downstairs pulled his attention, and he swung upright again, a spell on his lips, and Frumpkin sent to scout ahead immediately.

It would be just his luck if Nott got them arrested for squatting a few days before they were due to leave.

~

Molly ’s luck for the day seemed set to continue, as he didn’t even get a chance to sit and have a decent mope for more than a few minutes.

Across the room, out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw a small dark figure dart into view, then immediately retreat. It was so fast it could have easily been his imagination, but he sprang up anyway, unwilling to take that particular bet. His hands went to his swords right away, and he swore under his breath when his right one came up empty, remembering he ’d tossed that one while he was having a tantrum.

Eyes never leaving the archway where he thought he ’d spotted the movement, he circled over to the pile his scimitar rested in and retrieved it. He crouched low and stalked forwards, holding both swords ready, but before he could advance any further, a sleek and elegant tabby cat appeared from the corridor. It slunk out to stand five or ten feet from him, eyes searching.

“Well, _hello_ pretty kitty, ” he crooned, relaxing and holding his fingers out for the cat to sniff. It trotted over after a moment’s hesitation, ignoring his outstretched hand at the last second to scamper around him in a circle, checking him from every angle before coming back to rub against his hand, quickly beginning to purr. “Throwing big shapes were you? I nearly challenged you to a duel, you know.”

“Mmm, what d’you think? Your claws against my swords - who’d’ve won, sweet thing?” He moved to scratch under the little tabby’s chin, then smoothed his hand along the length of its back, stopping when it prompted an indignant little ‘ _mrrp_ ’ sound and a headbutt into his arm. The cat turned to look at him reproachfully, as if demanding to know why the chin-scratching had stopped. “I do have a certain height advantage, but those darling little eyes of yours could stop me right in my tracks…”

There was a sound, like fingers snapping, and in a small puff, the cat had disappeared into thin air where he ’d been reaching for it. Rearing back, Molly spotted it as it reappeared on the shoulder of a man standing in the archway, moving to curl around his shoulders like a living scarf. He wore a long, ragged coat, at least two days’ worth of stubble, and an appraising stare.

Molly knew of magic - had seen it done throughout the city, mostly at the level of parlour tricks apart from the healers, but impressive nonetheless - he even had a little of his own to call on, as a gift of his Infernal heritage. This, however, was a touch more impressive.

“I’d just _love_ to know how you do that, ” Molly said, utterly delighted at the appearance of this man, with his sparkling blue eyes and his magical pet. A little dose of adrenaline buzzed through his veins, thinking of all the exciting new possibilities his afternoon now held.

“And I would love to know who you are, and what you’re doing here.” The stranger was clearly doing his best to look imposing - and Molly couldn’t lie, the show of magic had helped him with it - but it was being slightly ruined by the fact that the cat was softly licking the stubble on his cheek.

Suppressing a giggle, he held out his hand with a wink.  “ _ You _ , darling man, can call me Molly. ”

~

Caleb was having a hard time believing his luck - in the sense that he was highly suspicious of how good it seemed right now.

Frumpkin had arrived at the source of the noise  _ just _ in time to see Nott skittering around the corner without her mask or her disguise spell in place. 

Caleb had had  _ just _ enough time to  _ message _ her to pull back before she was seen. 

Frumpkin had  _ then _ found not a threat, but the most perfect lavender tiefling Caleb could have imagined for the role of Mollymauk.

The man had moved with an easy grace, spoken sweetly, even looked stunningly like the royal portrait of Prince Mollymauk, underneath his many gaudy decorations.

It was all far too convenient. The other shoe was hovering around here somewhere, and Caleb intended to find out where before it dropped.

Nott came skidding around the corner behind him, her disguise spell now in place and her crossbow cocked, pointed at the tiefling ’s chest.

She lowered it for a moment in confusion, obviously seeing the same resemblance to the prince that Caleb had, then narrowed her eyes and aimed again, squinting up at him with distrust.  “S-state your purpose!”

“ _Liebchen_ , I think he has come here as a guest, _ja_? ” He cocked his head in the man’s direction who responded by nodding quickly, his hands held at chest level in a placating gesture.

“Yes. For travel documents - to get to Paris.”

_ That is  _ far _ too convenient. _

Caleb waved his hand across the air in front of the man, as if trying to clear condensation from a window-pane, and cast  _ dispel magic _ , waiting to see if a disguise would drop. The only result was the tiefling backing up a few steps into a defensive position, his face wary.

_ Interesting. _

“So, _Molly_ , was it?” he asked, slowly beginning to circle, as he’d had Frumpkin do previously.

Another nod.

_ If he _ _ ’s here to audition, he seems to be already in character. Promising. _

“Is there a last name, or will I just have to call you Molly twice?” he asked drily.

“Well, now that you mention it…” ‘Molly’ rubbed nervously at the back of his neck, sucking air in sharply through his teeth. “The first name is actually all I found.”

Caleb quirked his head.

“I… Well… From what I’ve been told, when everything happened here in the palace, I didn’t exactly have the best of nights.” He bit down on his lower lip.

“That is the case for _most_ people in this city, I would imagine. ” Caleb did his best, but some ice still dripped into his voice.

‘Molly’ nodded gravely before continuing, running a hand through his hair in a nervous tic.

“Well, in all the chaos I apparently took a pretty solid bump on the head from something or other,“ he said, brushing back his hair to reveal a faint scar around his temple. “I got found the morning after, bleeding fairly heavily, half frozen to death, just sort of… wandering - no idea who I was or what was happening…”

He shook his head, then offered up a shrug and a nervous smile, pulling the end of a delicate golden necklace from beneath his shirt.  “This has been my only clue about what came before.”

It was expensive, Caleb knew immediately from looking at it. There, inscribed in the font Caleb knew so well from the prince ’s lost trinket, was the name ‘ _ Molly _ ’, encircled by the words ‘ _ Together in Paris _ ’.

Suddenly, Caleb knew  _ exactly _ what had happened here:

This man, when he was just a small boy, had somehow stumbled across the prince ’s necklace during the night of the siege - likely dropped on the street when the royal twins were fleeing. Then when he’d woken up with his brains addled from the head injury, he’d assumed the necklace was always his. He’d assumed his name was ‘Molly’ from the engraving. 

Also, if he was left out to wander that night, his parents were likely no more alive than Caleb ’s own.

Somewhere, down in the parts of him that refused to be anything but  _ soft _ , there was a surge of pity.

_ On the other hand _ , the more pragmatic side of him piped up,  _ who could be a more perfect Mollymauk than a man with no memories from before the night the prince died? _

It might, in fact, be much better this way, for all concerned.

This man - Molly, Caleb would have to get used to thinking of him as - would be given a family, riches, a ticket out of Russia! The princess would be given the closest thing she could ever find to her actual brother, and without it even having to be an act on Molly ’s part! Then, of course, Caleb and Nott would have the reward of enough money to set them up for life - a real,  _ good _ life.

_ Rationalised that way, it doesn _ _ ’t seem so bad, does it? _ He mused, already pulling Nott over to the side to get their story straight.

Who was he, after all, to look serendipity in the face and say no?

“Allow me a moment to confer with my friend over here.”

~

When they crossed back across the room, Molly had sat on the stairs and was idly teasing Frumpkin with a length of thread he ’d produced from somewhere. They knew exactly how they wanted to play this.

He looked up, piercing red eyes giving Caleb a once-over before he spoke.  “So? Did I pass your wizard tests? Can I buy my papers?”

“Normally, _ja_ ,” Caleb paused for effect. “However, you have caught us just as we go out of business, unfortunately. You see, we plan to leave St. Petersburg very soon.”

“Well, isn’t it lucky I caught you two now, before you did!” He leaned forward, elbow on his knee and grinned, not even appearing to care how transparently false it was. “Surely you fine forgers have just one job left in you?”

“Paper fine enough for official documents does not appear from thin air, I’m afraid, and we have our last three sheets earmarked for a very particular purpose.” Caleb didn’t want to lay it on _too_ thick, but he did risk producing their already-forged visas from inside his coat, pretending to thumb through them with disinterest as he monitored Molly in his peripheral vision.

“Oh, let me guess - you’ll need to be compensated for your trouble if you go for more?” he purred, gazing right into Caleb’s eyes, half-lidded. “I’m _sure_ we can come to some arrangement. ”

“ _Nein_. As I said, this will be our final set of papers, ” Caleb intoned gravely, trying not to let himself blush. “One for myself, one for Nott here, and one for the lost prince Mollymauk himself.”

“The lost prince?” Molly raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “You’re not serious?”

“Of course we are! The long-lost Prince Mollymauk, whose entire family was murdered in the siege, save for himself and Princess Yasha.” Caleb slotted the sheets of paper back safely into his coat, pressed flat inside the cover of his spellbook. “Who disappeared in the chaos that evening, never to be seen again!” 

“No offence, darling, but won’t that make it much harder for him to use that visa?” Both of Molly’s eyebrows were up in his hairline at this point, a teasing grin tugging the corners of his lips.

“Word has it that Princess Yasha has long believed he survived that night, as no body was ever found.” Caleb replies primly. “She cannot return to St. Petersburg to search for herself, however. So _we_ —” 

“-are going to reunite the long-lost prince with his twin sister!” Nott chimed in excitedly, bouncing up and down, crossbow still in her hand.

“The only problem being we have not yet _found_ him. ” Caleb shot a pointed look at his little friend. He made a show of checking Molly over again. “Though, I must say, this entire time I could not help but notice - you _do_ match his description shockingly well. ”

“He’s right, you know!” Nott darted behind Molly, climbing onto the banister and sliding forward to stare at him. “Lavender tiefling! Those same red eyes...”

“Oh, _please_ ,” Molly rolled his eyes and stood up, avoiding the intensity of Nott’s gaze. “I’ll be giving you most of the gold I have for the ticket and papers anyway, there’s no need to start scamming me.”

“Coincidentally,” Caleb soldiered on, pretending not to have heard. “The princess believes her brother might journey find her in Paris, where your very nice trinket is also directing _you_ to search for a lost loved one. ” 

“Now, I know I have a certain flair, but _royalty_ seems a bit far-fetched, doesn ’t it?” He tried to back away, tail starting to flick back and forth behind him.

“You have the same strong chin…” Caleb reached out and grabbed it in his hand, turning Molly’s jaw this way and that, ignoring the indignant squawk it caused.

“Hold on!” Molly said, his lips still slightly mashed into each other from Caleb’s hold.

“It ran in the family y'know!” Nott clambered onto his shoulder from the banister, inspecting his face up close. “Though, don't think the prince had all these silly tattoos.”

“A more recent addition, I'm assuming?” Caleb filled in.

“Yes, but-” Molly sputtered, finally pulling his face from Caleb’s hand.

“And all the piercings. They couldn't have that in the royal court,” she continued, batting at one of the chains on his horns.

“Again, I'm presuming they happened _in the meantime_ , _liebchen_. ” He shot her another hard look.

“Are you _honestly_ saying you think I'm … some sort of long-lost royalty?” Molly’s eyes darted between them, still trying to back away, though Nott’s perch on his shoulder would always move with him.

“We’ve got: the same age, similar name, same features-” Nott listed each point off on her fingers. Extending them in front of his eyes on one hand while the other gripped his shoulder for dear life.

“Found wandering with _no_ memories shortly after the revolution, with Paris – the very place the princess vowed to meet her brother! – as your only lead …” Caleb took both his hands and herded him towards the enormous royal portrait, gesturing up at the small purple boy standing near the front. “In all our time of searching, I can truthfully say, you are our most promising candidate!”

There was a pause as Molly stared, his eyes roving over the portrait, spending slightly longer on the faces of the prince and princess.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” He turned on his heel, shaking his head and reaching up to dislodge Nott from her death-grip on his shoulder. He held her, squirming, under her armpits and brandished her at Caleb until he took her. “Either I’m being conned or you’re both fooling yourselves. Either way, I’m having no part in it.”

“It _is_ a lot of coincidences if not, ” Caleb mused, setting a protesting Nott down on her feet. “What else do you think it could all mean?”

“That somebody saw a little purple tiefling boy on the street that night, thought he could be the prince, and tried to smash his head in?” Molly said.

_ Most likely, yes,  _ Caleb thought to himself, but he could see cracks forming in the tiefling ’s resolve.

_ A few more pushes in the right spots _ _ … _

“I can tell you once again - without dishonesty - that of all those we’ve met, you are _by far_ the most promising candidate to bring to the princess. ” He laid a hand on Molly’s shoulder, and forced himself to make eye contact. “And you said it yourself - you have no impressive amounts of gold on your person, so robbing you is clearly not our motivation.”

“However, if you’re unwilling to come, so be it.” He patted Molly on the arm and turned, walking back the way he’d come at a carefully measured pace, not looking back. “The search will continue; come along, Nott!”

She ran after him, falling into step quickly, only breaking character when they were around the corner.

“Caleb! Caleb, we walked away too soon!” she hissed, hanging out of his arm. “He’s not hooked enough yet! He won’t—”

“Wait!” Molly’s voice rang down the corridor after them as Caleb shot an I-Told-You-So smile at Nott. He rounded the corner behind them. “All I have to do is let this woman _see_ me and she ’ll figure out if I’m her brother or not? If I’m not, it’s just an honest mix-up, and we walk away?” 

Caleb and Nott both nod.

“And I get to Paris either way? That’s the only string attached?”

Another nod.

“And do I have your guarantee that I won’t wake up halfway through the trip with a dagger in my back?” He fixed them with a narrow-eyed glare.

“I’d stab you from the front if anything!” Nott exclaimed, completely indignant, at which point Molly immediately dissolved into giggles, having to steady himself on the wall for several moments.

“Alright! Ok! I’m along for the ride, gods _help_ me. ” He pulled back upright, wiping at his eyes, then reached to his side to whip out a sword and point it at them lazily. “Just know I have two of these and I bloody _love_ using them, alright? ”

“That will be useful if we’re attacked by swashbuckling pirates, I imagine.” Caleb deadpanned, and got a delighted grin in return.

“He jokes! My goodness, I thought this trip would be all business…” His tail swished behind him and he circled around to lay an arm across Caleb’s shoulders. “Always good to include a little pleasure in the mix, don’t you think?”

“I, um. _Ja_? ” Caleb’s flustered voice came out in a squeak. Not his best moment, but Molly seemed pleased even so, offering up a dazzling grin and clapping him on the back.

“Excellent. So, lady and gentleman, when do we set off?”

~

Down deep in the bowels of the earth, long-dormant forces were stirring.

The moment Molly ’s foot had crossed the threshold, the reliquary - which had long rested at the bottom of the ice-covered river - faintly began to glow. Ethereal wisps of green smoke crawled lazily up the inside of the glass, intertwining and swirling in the inky blackness until they grew numerous enough to start spilling out, sinking into the silt of the riverbed and beneath the earth. They wormed their way downward, dragging the reliquary behind them as they forged a path, descending until they reached a space not quite of this world yet not quite of any other. 

It was a place of no light, saturated with cave-darkness and damp, though no water flowed, no air moved. The phosphorescent tendrils snaked their way through, casting the entire space in a sickly green. It seemed to have no apparent beginning or end, no connection to anywhere other than itself - a dank, miserable oubliette.

Here, a pair of eyes snapped open for the first time in a decade.

The reliquary dropped into the very centre, glass and metal rolling across stone until an enormous glob of slime, shifting and dripping, slammed down around it in a form loosely resembling a hand. The gelatinous mass it was connected to began to pull upwards, coalescing, as limbs, a barrel-shaped torso, and a distorted, elongated head began to roughly form. The only detail that stayed constant was a pair of fiendish eyes, burning like coals in the centre of it. 

Had any mortal eyes been watching, it wouldn ’t be unlike if a large wax sculpture of a frog had been left in the sun, and the melting process was now being shown in reverse. 

The still-shifting form pulled a deep black cloak around where its shoulders might be - were in fact  _ starting _ to be - and its head split in half horizontally, a grating screech blasting out from the unnatural, still-toothless maw. It echoed around the empty space as the creature took shape, hand now solid and able to grasp its prize. The reliquary rose in that hand, coming to rest under the appraising eyes of Kylre, the Devil-Toad.

As soon as he had lips to form the words, he murmured to it in Infernal, and the shapeless wisps of smoke were joined by wicked bat-like creatures, glowing the same ethereal green. They swarmed upwards, set about their task, and Kylre - finally a solid creature once more - allowed himself a smirk. 

_ Finally _ he knew what had condemned him to this purgatory for so many years. The princess may have left the city, never to return, but the little prince, evidently, had not. He ’d sworn that none of royal blood could set foot in the palace again and live - that he wouldn’t rest until he’d made it so - and evidently the one he’d made his contract with had taken the pledge literally. 

Finally he knew how to find his rest, how to complete his revenge - he would snuff out the prince ’s life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Apologies for this taking forever. Life came at me fast.
> 
> Thank you so much to Myri and Fern for the beta reading!
> 
> (ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY COMMENTS! MY CROPS ARE WATERED!)

Caleb had been putting up with Molly as he stood with his face practically flattened against the window of the train, ooh-ing and ahh-ing - at the passing landscape, at fields of farm animals, at ruined buildings, untouched expanses of snow and deep forests of evergreen trees - for precisely twenty-three and a half minutes before deciding that was Enough.

“If the train jostles even a little, you will knock your teeth out against the glass. Sit down.” He didn’t look up from his book but saw a swirl of multicoloured fabrics and felt the seat press down beside him.

“Well, _somebody_ here lacks the spirit of adventure …” Molly pouted, crossing his arms and legs in one fluid motion, then leaning his head against Caleb’s shoulder, pushing as far into his personal space as physically possible. He only spoke again when he’d successfully tipped the man off-balance and sent him falling sideways, barely avoiding dropping his book.

“What in the gods’ names are you—”

“How can you sit here with your head in that when there’s so much to _see_ out there? ”

“I am not interested in a flock of sheep,” Caleb pronounced, settling himself upright again, refusing to dignify the tiefling’s shenanigans by paying attention to them. “I am interested in my book.”

“Won’t you miss it, though?”

“I never knew the flock of sheep in the first place, so I assume not.”

Molly let a little chuckle out.  “You know what I mean; Russia must have been your home for a long time.”

“It was a place I lived. I wouldn’t necessarily call it home.” He still refused to look up from his reading, but could tell that Molly was pouting again.

“Nott, how about you?” Molly swapped to the other side of the compartment and peered up into the luggage rack, where Nott rested. He pointedly swung his feet up onto the seat beside Caleb. “One of you must have some feelings about _something_. ”

“There _were_ lots of shiny things in the palace …” she mused contentedly, fiddling with a pair of ornate, opalescent coat buttons she’d stolen from somewhere. Every so often she’d pause to sip from her flask.

“There! Little bit of enthusiasm! That’s all I needed.” He rolled his eyes, re-crossed his arms and legs, and resumed looking out the window, though from his seat this time, and with much less excitement.

Caleb found he still couldn ’t concentrate on the book, and there was now a sense of unease in his stomach.

~

Caleb couldn ’t sleep, which wasn’t unusual in and of itself; he tended not to sleep very soundly on the best of nights. Tonight, however…

He let his gaze drift to the other side of the compartment, where Molly rested, illuminated softly by the moonlight and curled in an impressive nest of blankets. Sleep had softened his face and left his hair ruffled, splayed out in several directions around his head, making him seem several years younger.

Caleb let out a sigh. Here he was, bringing the man unawares into a tangled web of lies, yet he couldn ’t stand to let him enjoy himself for half an hour? What was  _ wrong _ with him? Had he really allowed himself to grow so bitter?

He pulled Frumpkin up onto his shoulders and padded out into the hallway, hoping some air might clear his head.

~

Nott had obviously gotten too familiar with her flask over the course of the evening, because she woke in the dead of night needing to pee like her life depended on it.

She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, swinging from the luggage rack to plop down onto the seats. Caleb was nowhere to be seen - possibly out on one of his midnight Over-Thinking Strolls - so she'd just let their Mollymauk stand-in know she was headed to use the bathroom instead. That way Caleb wouldn't panic if he came back while she was gone.

A solid plan.

~

Molly's  “ _ Ahh, fuck! _ ” closely followed by Nott's “AHH! CALEB!” cut into Caleb’s thoughts like a knife.

Holding a spell ready, he tore into their compartment just in time to see Molly slightly lowering one of his swords from Nott's throat and staring incredulously at her now-undisguised face.

“ _Nott?_ ” fell from his lips cautiously, his eyes narrowed and the confusion on his face resolving as he connected the dots.

“Yes! Yes, just me!” She squeaked, her hands up in surrender. Even under the circumstances, Caleb could barely suppress a snort when she added: “Just a little halfling girl! This is alllll a dreeeeeam!”

For someone who'd helped him run so many cons, she was still an absolutely horrendous liar under pressure sometimes.

A tense silence stretched out afterwards, the only movement being Molly ’s chest heaving as he came down from the shock of his awakening. Nott’s moved even quicker, the blade of Molly’s scimitar still not far from where it could strike a lethal blow.

“I sense we will now need to have a _talk._ ” Caleb's mouth formed around the word distastefully. “But I'd appreciate you lowering your sword first, Molly.”

To Caleb's surprise, he almost immediately  _ did _ .

~

“Alright,” Molly started, massaging his forehead. “I can well understand the disguise – I can't imagine life as a goblin in the city is a friendly one – but this is something I'd have appreciated being _told_ if we're travelling together. ”

He'd sheathed his sword and followed them to the baggage car when Nott had suggested they bring their talk somewhere with more privacy, which Caleb took as a good sign. He also seemed to be taking more exception to the Huge Lie part of the situation than the Goblin part. Also encouraging.

“ _If only_ ,” he stressed, “to keep me from ever being woken up like that again.”

“Yes, I can imagine that was quite a surprise.” Caleb winced, thinking of several occasions where he’d opened his eyes to come face to face with Nott’s intense yellow ones. Even knowing and loving her dearly didn’t soften the initial surge of adrenaline in those moments.

“I think the shock took a few years off my life.” Molly huffed out a laugh, running his hands through his hair.

“Sorry, I can, uh, have that effect sometimes.” Nott shuffled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. “I think it’s the teeth…”

“They’re perfectly lovely when they’re not two inches away from my face in the dark, darling.” Molly ruffled her hair, provoking a blush.

It was an odd development, Caleb thought with a sudden twinge of guilt. He ’d never met anyone who so readily accepted Nott out of her disguise. There was a kindness to Molly that he wasn’t used to encountering, and it had the unease in his guts growing by the minute.

“But-” Molly pinned Caleb with his gaze, eyes far too knowing for comfort. “Just for my own peace of mind, is there anything else you'd like to tell me? Anything else I might end up nearly stabbing one of you over later?”

There was that twinge again.

_ You're not yet rich enough to afford a conscience _ , he reminded himself as he opened his mouth to reply, a lie already forming.

Before he could let so much as the first syllable pass his lips, the entire carriage seemed to lurch and he was knocked sideways, his hip making painful contact with the corner of a crate before he managed to steady himself. Swearing, he pushed himself upright with more effort than it should have required. He could feel the boards under his feet rattle and an invisible force trying to push him towards the back of the carriage, as if the train had massively picked up speed.

“Um. _Caleb_? ”

He turned to see Nott clinging to the doorframe, the door itself was swung outwards, buffeted by the winds to the point that it was threatening to pull from its own hinges. Quickly fading into the distance was the rest of the train, now detached completely from the engine and drifting to a halt.

_ Scheisse _ .

~

“What the _fuck_? ” Molly absently noted his voice was pitched far higher than usual as he picked himself up from the floor.

“That would be my assessment of the situation, _ja_. ” Caleb still hadn’t taken his eyes from the doorway and, once he was upright, Molly couldn’t blame him as he took in the fast-growing expanse of empty track between them and the rest of the train.

He shook himself, then grabbed Nott away from the doorframe, hoping Caleb would follow once he saw they were moving.  “There have to be some brakes on this thing. C’mon!”

They flew through the next carriage without a second glance, their breath misting in the unheated cargo space, and came to a thick metal door with a round window set near the top. Nott, immediately and without waiting for permission, scrambled up Molly ’s back, pushing down against his head so she could see through it. He adapted almost instantly, switching instead to trying the door-handle.

“It’s empty!” Nott called down to him.

“It’s _locked_. ”

“Not for long!” She’d already dropped to the floor, and was beginning to pull out an impressive array of thieves’ tools.

“There is something arcane beyond this door. Something powerful.” Caleb caught up to them just as they were prying it open, his hands moving through a series of complex gestures.

Without wasting a moment, he pushed past them through the new opening, headed directly for the engine ’s boiler, which was beginning to rattle and hiss. “Perhaps if we remove it—”

Molly suddenly realised what he was planning to do, as he switched to a new set of magical words and made a knocking gesture into the air.

“Caleb, don’t—!”

Too late.

Caleb dodged at the last second as the hatch flew open, slamming against the side wall with his arms shielding his face, just in time to avoid a plume of flame bursting from inside the engine. Molly felt the searing heat like a slap to the face, even from the doorway. It subsided to only a dull roar after the initial burst, leaving an opening for escape, but Caleb stayed rooted to the spot. He dropped his hands, but then only stared, wide-eyed and breathing hard, into the blaze as it began to build again.

“Caleb!” Nott dashed to his side immediately, pulling at his hand with all the force she could muster, but he barely seemed to register her presence. He stood still transfixed, even as the flames began to grow again.

“What the hells did you _think_ was going to happen?! ” Molly spat as he surged forward. He ducked to the side of the hatch and slammed it shut in one fluid motion, only registering a searing pain in his left hand halfway through. The metal on that side had clearly sat in the path of the flames even after being opened, glowing red-hot and claiming at least one layer of skin as he pulled away. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“Molly?!” Nott’s face shot up and she danced nervously in place, torn between leaving Caleb’s side and seeing what had happened.

“’S _fine_ , it’s- _fuck_. It ’s fine,” he hissed out, teeth ground together. The hatch likely wouldn’t hold out long, considering he hadn’t been able to secure it in any way, and they needed to be anywhere but here when it blew again. He took his least favourite scarf from around his neck and quickly wrapped his hand, already moving towards Caleb to shake him out of his trance. “We need to- we need to _move_ , c’mon. Where’s the brakes on this thing?”

“Um…” Nott pointed behind him. The brake lever was lying snapped off on the ground, the metal dented and melting in places from gods knew what. Some of the marks nearly looked like they’d been made by small teeth.

“So, definitely sabotage then,” Molly said, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to have a good, frustrated cry right in the middle of the engine room. “Good to know, okay. Everybody _out_ , quick before this thing blows up in our faces. Again.”

“We- we will have to jump.” The wheels in Caleb’s head seemed to finally be turning again as they slammed the door behind them and retreated into the first baggage car. He shouldered open the sliding door, but it only revealed a dizzying drop into the valley below as they crossed a bridge. The ground wasn’t visible from their height, not that it would make much of a difference.

“Go on! You first!” Molly sniped at him, hanging onto the wall of the train for support as the howling winds threatened to pull them out.

“Oh, you are so very clever,” Caleb spat as he threw up his hands. “Tell me _your_ solution? ”

Nott was already elbow-deep in a toolbox nearby, flinging things to one side as she searched.  “We detach the couplings, then! Stop bickering!”

There was a flash of unnatural greenish light from the direction they ’d just travelled. Molly would have assumed it was the engine firing off another blast, but he’d no idea what could have caused that colour.

The engine-room door was still sealed when he checked, but as his gaze drifted down to the couplings, he swore, loud and long; they were fused into one solid, melted lump, not dissimilar to the condition the brakes had been left in.

“Molly?” Caleb’s head poked out behind him, then followed his silent, frustrated gesture down to the twisted gnarl of metal below their feet. “ _Scheisse_. ”

“That’d be my thoughts on it, darling,” Molly muttered under his breath and ran his un-injured hand through his hair, wanting to start tearing it out at this point. They were still accelerating somehow; whatever had gotten into the engine obviously _was_ powerful. He didn ’t know how fast a train could go before it derailed, but he wasn’t keen to find out. “Please tell me you have a spell for this.”

“For this precise situation?” Caleb let out a bitter laugh. “No. No, I do not.”

“You’ve a magic cat but you can’t break an inch of metal?” Molly said, cradling his hand and allowing himself another low hiss. Given the speed they were moving at, it was low on his list of priorities, but it didn’t stop it having a nasty sting.

“He can do almost anything!” Nott slapped out at his leg as she zoomed past, passing Caleb a distinctly un-magical tool to hammer away at the fused couplings with. “Just- just give him a second! Stop pressuring him!”

Rolling his eyes, Molly span back into the carriage. There had to be  _ something _ better equipped to break the couplings than —

His eyes landed on a line of heavy crates labelled  ‘mining equipment’.

_ That looks promising _ .

As his fingers closed around his prize, he could hear Caleb outside, beating at the problem and grunting with exertion.

“Aghhh, this is doing _nothing_ , we need something stronger…”

Molly danced over, a manic spring in his step, twirling a stick of dynamite like a baton.  “You’ll never  _ guess _ what I just found. ”

Caleb ’s eyes locked onto it and a startled grin spread across his features. “That will do.”

Within seconds they ’d coordinated. Nott held it in place with some sort of spell - Molly made a note to ask her about it later - and Caleb had ushered them to the far end of the carriage to crouch behind the most solid crates they could see. He sent a burst of fire towards the fuse, then immediately shrank down as much as humanly possible, curling around Nott’s tiny frame.

Long seconds stretched out, to the point that Molly was tempted to peek back over and check if it was still lit, but eventually-

_ Boom! _

Where the couplings had been fused, there was now only open air. Where the entire front end of the carriage had been, there was  _ also _ only open air - dynamite not being the most precise of tools. Still crouched low, but peering out over the crates, they watched the train ’s engine begin to speed ahead, no longer pulling them.

Nott whooped and started to literally jump up and down.  “Now we just drift to a stop! We’ve lots of track! It’s gonna be—”

She was cut off before even finishing her sentence, as before their eyes an enormous spectral creature, bat-like in appearance and glowing a sickly green, rose up from the darkness of the valley below. It swelled, spreading demonic wings made of smoke, and shot upwards like a firework, breaking through the very centre of the bridge a mile or so ahead on their track and rending it asunder.

“Is that another thing I should’ve been made aware of?!” Molly shouted over the rushing wind, reaching out and grabbing Caleb’s arm like a vice without taking his eyes off the scene in front of them.

“ _Nein_. I swear to you, this is new! ” Caleb’s eyes were like saucers, staring at the gap where the upcoming bridge had been. “I have no idea what this is!”

“We’re not gonna stop before then! It’s too close!” Nott’s claws seemed to be trying to embed themselves into Caleb’s shoulder as he cast his eyes around frantically.

“I have an idea.” He took off towards the mining crates again, picking up a heavy length of chain with a hook on the end and nearly buckling under the weight. “ _M_ _äuschen_ , grab the other end with your _mage hand_ please, and tie it beneath the train. ”

The chain ’s end lifted a few inches from the floor without Nott touching it, just as the dynamite had, but fell back with a clang.

“It’s a little heavy!”

“Give it here!” Molly grabbed it before anyone could argue, slinging it over his shoulder and swinging out into the open air, hooking his left elbow around a metal bar so he could reach beneath the train.

Their speed was even more frightening with the track flying by so close to his face. Debris and small stones flicked up, missing him by inches in many cases and pelting right into him in others. One in particular sliced a shallow cut in his cheek, not far below his eye. He did his best to ignore it, hooking the chain around the nearest solid metal thing he could spot, looping it through itself and pulling it tight.

Some larger piece of debris - gods knew what, it wasn ’t much more than a threatening blur to his eyes - detached from the front of the car, cracking some of the wooden planks on the tracks and then ricocheting directly at his face. He was able to rear back to avoid it - thankfully, since he was fairly sure the smashing sound behind him was it taking some branches off a nearby tree - but it left him unanchored, starting to fall backwards with a yelp. Caleb lurched forward into his field of vision, grabbing Molly’s hand to tug him back up, turning the yelp into a full-throated shout as it pressed into the burns. Agony shot up through his arm as he scrambled back on board, landing on the floor on his knees, panting hard and curling around his hand where he pulled it into his chest.

Nott and Caleb, understandably too distracted by their impending doom to notice, had already moved to grab the large metal hook together.

“Brace yourselves!” Caleb warned as they tossed it out into the night. It took a moment to catch on anything solid enough to hold, then the entirety of what was left of the train jolted violently, the wheels in between the two remaining cars derailing and sending them careering sideways, sending up showers of sparks, still moving at an incredible speed but beginning to slow in earnest now. Slowing was the least of their problems, however, given that the remaining wheels didn’t seem inclined to stay on the track much longer either.

“Time to revisit that jumping idea!” Molly yelled, levering himself upright one-handed, doing his best to keep his feet under him as he sprinted for the open door.

“Agreed! On three!” Caleb’s eyes were wide with fear but decisive. “One. Two—”

“Three!” Molly scooped Nott up in the crook of his elbow as he passed, leaping out into what he hoped was a deep snowbank. Caleb landed in a tangle of limbs with them as a cacophony of screeching metal and splintering wood behind them signalled that the train had, in fact, been about to fully derail.

“What. _The fuck_. Was that about? ” Nott was first to scramble to her feet, wriggling out from under Molly’s arm and spitting snow. “Was that… Was that _us_? ”

“Not unless one of us has a very, _very_ powerful enemy they have neglected to mention. ” Caleb groaned beside him, the snow crunching as he picked himself up. “ _I_ do not …”

“You’re the only wizard I know,” Nott supplied.

“Never pissed someone off _this_ badly. ” Molly said, still face-down in the snow and not feeling inclined to move.

“Mm. Then I think this was not about us, _ja_? Wrong place at the wrong time. ”

“It was just us and the luggage, though…” Nott sounded as if she was chewing on one of her fingers. “Who else could they have been after?”

“Perhaps an object of great magical significance was being transported?” Caleb mused. “If I can have ten minutes, I will check for anything of an arcane nature.”

Molly rolled himself onto his back, but otherwise just lay in the snow where he ’d landed, letting their conversation wash over him. He could feel his own breaths coming too fast and shallow, pulling frigid air into his lungs, the combination of the pain and the adrenaline leaving him barely able to think straight now they were out of danger.

“Molly. Molly, look at me.” Caleb’s face was inches from his own when he opened his eyes. “Are you alright? Are you injured?”

“I’m _alive_! ” He laughed, bordering on hysterical. “All things considered, I think that’s alright.”

Nott and Caleb helped him up and together they staggered over to where the carriages had come to rest. One lay on its side, the front section blown open by the force of the explosives, while the other had apparently either landed upright to begin with, or had just happened to stop rolling in a lucky position. Judging by the scattering of luggage and crates across the ground, it was probably the latter. Caleb was already making his way into the upright carriage, where he began to draw out some sort of ritual on the floor, muttering under his breath.

Molly dug out the nearest blanket he could find, draped it over a crate, then sat down, leaning his entire weight back against the wall and closing his eyes, while Nott stayed busy looting her way through all the luggage.

When his ten minutes had passed, Caleb rose and walked slowly through the carriage, occasionally stopping to pick something up, then went out to sift through the overturned one and the scattered debris outside. Molly let his eyes close again. Eventually he returned, holding four or five items but shaking his head.

“These I suspect may be of some use for us - I will need to spend a few minutes identifying them to be sure - but would be insignificant to anybody capable of _this_. ” He gestured out at the wreckage. “I can not tell what the goal was here, but I suspect it was not accomplished. I’d suggest alternative transportation to be safe.”

“No problem.” Molly said grimly, leaning his head back against the wall. “If I never see another train again in my life after this, it’ll be too soon.”

Nott was in her element, deliriously happy, wearing a ring on each finger and amassing a literal pile of shining buttons in front of her. He considered having a talk with her about when stealing was and wasn ’t a good idea, but wasn’t in the mood.

Caleb started sifting through his armful of apparently-arcane finds, touching each one in turn for what seemed an eternity and muttering under his breath again. In between switching items, he would usually make some sort of face as he found out what it did. Molly could feel a splitting headache starting to brew and his hand was absolutely throbbing. He found himself resolutely not wanting to check what the damage actually was.

Caleb finished up with a glint in his eye.  “I think some of these will be very useful. Especially for you,  _ liebchen _ . ” He beckoned Nott closer, ruffling her hair as she snuggled up to him, eyes round and curious.

“Firstly we have some bolts that are enchanted for extra damage; those are for you. Then a sending stone - unfortunately useless without its match - and a glove that will allow me to cast _scorching ray_ without dipping into my own well of magic. ” He set those aside, letting Nott scoop up the handful of bolts to squirrel them away. “This is some heavy plate armour that is enchanted for extra protection, but I imagine none of us are able to wear it, so that is also useless. Finally, though, we have something _very_ special. ”

“This,” he began, reaching behind him to pull out a shining hip flask that looked as if it might be platinum-plated. Nott’s eyes immediately widened even further. “Is a flask that has been enchanted to never run empty.”

Nott whooped excitedly and made to grab for it.

“I do feel, though,” he added reluctantly, sending an apologetic glance in Nott’s direction. “That it is only fair to ask our new travelling companion if he would also be interested in it, given that we have both gained an item already.”

Molly couldn ’t even think about taking it after spotting the look of utter devastation that flickered across Nott’s features at the suggestion. “I  _ think _ I can sit out this round of looting if we agree you ’ll pour me a drink from it when I need one.”

“ _Yes_! Deal! ” Her entire face lit up, grabbing the flask and dancing around with it, occasionally hugging it to her chest. Molly couldn’t help finding himself endeared. “I’ll even give you my old flask so we can both get something! Here! Look!”

She came around and brandished it at him, practically bouncing up and down. He reached his right hand awkwardly across his body to grasp it, and Nott ’s gaze flitted down, her eyes narrowing at his left one. “Molly, why is your hand wrapped like that?”

“It’s fine,” he replied nervously, waving a dismissive hand. “Just burnt it on the engine, it’ll heal.”

Caleb was immediately alert.  “The engine that was spewing fire directly at us?”

“Intense, _magically charged_ fire? ” Nott added.

“Really, it’s—”

“Molly, if you are hurt—”

“You need to _tell_ us these things. It could get infected! ” Nott broke in.

“It just stings a bit, honestly, I—”

“Let me _see,_ ” Nott commanded firmly, leaving no room for further argument.

He averted his eyes and reluctantly peeled the scarf away, wincing as it tried to stick to the wound, tugging as it pulled off. Hearing Caleb and Nott gasp in front of him, he forced himself to look down.

Almost his entire palm was eaten up by the livid red burns, shiny blisters rising in several places - one of which seemed to have popped when Caleb was hauling him up - and an inch-wide stripe branded across the inside of his fingers where they ’d closed around the door’s edge. He felt his stomach turn a little, seeing the angry, weeping thing in its entirety.

He ’d had worse - he’d most  _ definitely _ had worse, he ’d taken a dagger to the ribs before for the gods’ sakes - but most of those had been when he knew he had access to a healer. Not to mention, the wounds swords caused tended to be cleaner than this; this was a  _ mess _ . There was a different quality to the pain too - it was insistent and still carrying a searing heat, like it was still burning, like it was on fire.

Caleb turned away immediately, breathing hard with the same far-away look he ’d sported on the train starting to form, and Nott hissed.

“Well, you did _insist_! ” Molly had apparently found the end of his patience, and decided he needed to be elsewhere for a while, stalking towards his bag at the end of the carriage. “I was happy to keep it covered…”

“Molly, you can’t—” Caleb seemed to have recovered enough to shout at him, and Molly was not in the mood for it.

“So far tonight I’ve been lied to, burned, and nearly killed in at least three new and exciting ways. Let’s not add a screaming argument to the list, alright? I’m exhausted.” One-handed, he fished out a half-full bottle of booze and pulled the door open again. “I’m going to chill this in the snow a few minutes, then get stinking filthy drunk and forget any of this ever happened. Don’t wait up for me, darling.”

With that he tossed off a sarcastic salute and hopped out, landing with a soft crunch. He stomped as far as the second detached carriage and, once he was safely behind it, let himself plunge his aching hand into the snow, hunkering down and letting out a few quiet sobs.

~

The night air bit into Caleb as he left the relative safety of their shelter, leaving Nott to set up their bedding while he was away. By his internal clock, Molly had been gone nearly an hour and with the sun gone down and the temperature dropping quickly, it had officially reached the time to be worrying about him.

Thankfully, he didn ’t have far to search - the man had apparently climbed to the roof - or, since it had overturned, the side - of the adjacent carriage and was now sitting and drinking, silhouetted against the rising moon.

Caleb made enough noise gracelessly clambering up to join him that he was sure his presence was no surprise, but he still cleared his throat loudly.  “A man could catch his death out here, you know.”

“I’ve cheated it a few times already tonight, what’s once more?” Molly quirked an eyebrow at him, taking another swig. His injured hand was pressed hard against the cold metal of the carriage, but from the pallor of his face and the faint sheen of sweat on his brow, it didn’t seem to be helping much.

Caleb huffed out a small laugh, watching his breath mist in the air.  “I would think that was all the more reason to be cautious.”

“That's fair,” Molly conceded, but didn't move. He started to run his left hand through his hair but pulled up short with a frustrated grunt upon remembering the burn. He shot a betrayed glare down at it.

“I have, uh. I believe I can help with that, if you will let me.”

“Oh, he’s a healer too.” Molly’s eyebrows raised and his tail - most likely without any actual input from him - had perked up into a shape not unlike a question mark. “You’re just _full_ of surprises. ”

“Ah. No such luck, I’m afraid.” Caleb felt a flush rising to his cheeks. He reached into his coat, his flawless memory allowing him to remember which of the many pockets contained what he needed, and drew out a small jar of burn salve. “But this has some minor healing properties and more importantly, will take away the heat, and the sting.”

Caleb had little idea what specific magics were incorporated into it - it was nature magic, plant magic, and therefore far outside his own areas of study - but he knew it gave off a dim glow to a  _ detect magic _ spell, and he was well-acquainted with its effects. It had thankfully been kept in plentiful stock in the factory district, to tend to scalds and burns in lieu of paying for a healer or potions, and he hoped there was a druid or apothecary in Paris who knew the recipe. He ’d been sure to stock up before leaving, but it was still a finite supply.

“I apologise, by the way.” Caleb murmured, sitting himself cross-legged in front of Molly, doing his best to ignore the chill that shot up through his bones. “My carelessness should not have had such consequences for you.”

“My own bloody fault, really. I was stupid.” He bit his lower lip, eyes cast downwards. “I’m supposed to be fire-resistant, but I guess that doesn’t mean immune to it. Should’ve really checked the big metal door wasn’t red-hot before I touched it…”

“We are none of us perfect,” Caleb said as he unscrewed the lid of the salve, resting it beside his knee.

“Oh, speak for yourself.” Molly winked and made a show of preening. “Being stupid only _adds_ to my charm. ”

“Your modesty also.” Caleb grasped his wrist as gently as possible, turning the palm upwards and pulling it towards him.

“No, never had much use for that.” Molly gave a wolfish grin - still shockingly effective in spite of his face’s pale, clammy state - leaning closer to let his hand be pulled the rest of the way into Caleb’s lap.

He kept it perfectly still as Caleb dipped his fingers into the jar and began to rub them in soft circles across the burns, easing the cool substance onto the blisters first, then everywhere else, paying particular attention to the line that had gone straight across Molly ’s fingers.

The effect was almost instantaneous. The more angry-looking portions began to settle and the blisters shrank back flat against the skin. The entire area was still obviously raw and fragile, but looked as if a few days ’ worth of healing had taken place. Caleb knew from experience, though, that the salve’s best quality was its ability to take away the heat and numb the pain.

“Oh, _fuck me_ …” Molly’s eyes fluttered shut and his entire body sagged with relief, his head flopping backwards and his mouth falling open. “Caleb, that’s amazing. What is that?”

“It is, ah. Um. A salve. For burns.” His mouth had gone incredibly dry suddenly, and he was extremely aware of Molly’s hand held in his own. “I have found it very useful myself.”

“Useful? It’s _incredible_. Can I marry it? Can I tell it I love it? ” Relief clearly had him beginning to babble. He tipped sideways and lay down, letting out a long and heartfelt sigh as he let his eyes drift closed again, his entire body becoming pliant and relaxed. It was oddly reminiscent of when Frumpkin would settle in beside him as he read. “Gods I can _think_ straight again. ”

He ’d let go of Molly’s hand at some point in the manoeuvre but the man had just let it drop right into his lap, apparently unaware.

“Remind me to _never_ do that again. ” Molly rolled over slightly to gaze up at the cloudless night sky, his head resting against Caleb’s leg now and his hand still flopped over his lap. A content, far-away look crossed over his face. “Hmm… Is it cheesy to say the stars and the moon look amazing tonight?"

Caleb had stiffened at the sudden incursion into his personal space - though it seemed to be becoming a pattern with this man, as he didn ’t seem overly aware of the concept - but had to agree; the night sky was very beautiful. “They are pretty,  _ ja _ . Though I would prefer to be watching them through a window perhaps - it is certainly chilly out here. ”

“I’ll be in in a minute - just need to breathe for a bit.” He patted Caleb’s thigh. “You go ahead before you freeze.”

“You have been sitting here far longer than I have.”

“Tieflings can sit out in the snow for a bit - _you_ absolutely _will_ catch your death. ” Molly smiled gently up and him and Caleb felt something in his chest tighten.

“Alright, but I will leave a guard-cat with you.” He snapped his fingers and Frumpkin appeared. The little cat gave a look of utter distaste at the freezing metal under his paws and immediately leapt onto Molly’s stomach, burrowing into his coat for warmth and eliciting a giggle. “I also find he’s excellent at generating heat on nights like this one.”

“Thank you.” There was that soft smile playing across Molly’s lips again. Caleb found himself barely able to look at it directly. “I’ll take good care of him, I promise.”

~

A while later, Molly softly pulled open the door of the one intact carriage, padding inside with Frumpkin perched on his shoulders. Nott half-woke from her sleep at the swell of cold air, but he ruffled her hair, murmuring an apology, and she drifted back off.

Caleb was still awake, reading by a floating globule of light he must have conjured as he sat with a blanket around his shoulders. Molly plopped Frumpkin into his lap and the little cat immediately rose up to block his view of the page he was reading.

“Hey. I can poof you away, you know.” He glared down at the cat but the threat was clearly empty. He looked up at Molly. “I’m glad you came in; I was beginning to worry again.”

_ That _ _ ’s an interesting feeling… _ Molly thought. He wasn ’t overly used to having anyone wonder where he was or worrying for him.

“Thanks. He was good company.” He started laying down his bedroll and wrapping up his swords for the night. “So, how are we planning to get to Paris now?”

“I imagine walking or hitchhiking until we can find an alternative.” Caleb’s lip curled. Molly couldn’t blame him. “But that is tomorrow’s problem.”

“To tomorrow’s problems!” Molly laughed, raising the bottle he’d brought in with him before stashing it away.

“Here, by the way.” Caleb tossed him a small jar of the same magical salve he’d rubbed into Molly’s hand. “I imagine you will need this for the next while.”

Molly smiled and thanked him, tucking it away into the pockets of his coat. He settled down into the comforting warmth of his bedroll, and wrapped himself in as many spare blankets as he could find, carving out a little nest for himself. Before he turned over to sleep he murmured  “don’t stay up too late now, darling,” and shot Caleb a wink, revelling in the blush and the flustered expression it produced.

“Goodnight, Molly,” Caleb replied.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like 10k, because I apparently have no self control, and I think officially makes this fic the longest one I've ever written?
> 
> Big thanks to Myri and Gray for the beta and to the WM discord for just generally being super encouraging.

“Are we _there_ yet? ” Molly’s head was hanging over the side of the horse-cart, showing the long line of his neck and the twining peacock feathers of his tattoo to Caleb. The countryside slowly drifted past them as Molly dangled a loose piece of hay over his own face, swaying it back and forth idly, seemingly desperate for _something_ to entertain him.

“Molly, we are in Poland.” Caleb pointedly did not look up from his book, even though he’d barely read half a chapter since the journey began. The purple menace lounging opposite him was a surprisingly powerful distraction, even just kept to his peripheral vision, but he’d be damned if he gave the man the satisfaction of _knowing_ it.

“Your point being?”

“I assume you remember we are headed for Paris?” Caleb was quickly losing the fight against letting himself smile, feeling the corners of his lips quirk up involuntarily.

“Not before I die of old age, apparently…” He pulled his head up to let Caleb see his eyes were rolling.

“Well, soon there is a long walk to the bus station; perhaps that will raise your spirits?”

He was rewarded with a long groan as Molly tossed his head back over the side again, along with half of his upper body. It was a wonder the man didn ’t fall out. Caleb turned his gaze to Nott, who’d given up on playing with Frumpkin and was now methodically unscrewing and pocketing a series of small screws from the back of the cart. The corner of it that she occupied was starting to look slightly unstable, but thankfully they’d be hopping out soon enough.

~

“You think if I jumped in, it’d just carry me there?” Molly mused, quirking his head towards the river. He was clearly unused to carrying any kind of luggage, as his suitcase was constantly hitting against his leg or the backs of his ankles as he walked.

“It could save us time giving you a bath,” Nott muttered.

“Are you implying I smell, dear?” Molly leaned down in front of her face to ask, his tone saccharine.

“Well, you can hardly expect us to put you in front of Jester without cleaning you up a bit first, I mean—”

Molly stopped dead in his tracks and his sharp gaze shot straight behind him to Caleb, who was frantically gesturing for Nott to shush.  “And just who would  _ Jester _ be? ”

“The, ah, the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea,” Caleb hedged, trying to buy time.

“The Ruby of the— No. Nope. Coming back to that later.” Molly shook his head. “Why would you put me in front of _her_ daughter when it ’s the princess who lost her brother? _Caleb_? ”

“Well, you see, there is a process involved in getting to see the princess herself. Someone so important can not just be freely accessed.” Caleb held his hands up placatingly. “Potential Mollymauks are first seen by the princess’ cousin, Jester, and questioned, to—”

“What? _No_. No, no, no. Nobody told me I had to _prove_ I was the prince! ” Molly sputtered, his hands flying out to the side. “Show up, stand there, tell my story – let _them_ figure it out! But not going in there and _lying_ to them! ”

Oh no. Not when they were so close. It couldn ’t all fall apart now.

“Hey! _You_ don't know if it _is_ a lie. ” Nott piped up.

“And how am I meant to answer questions when I don't know if I even _know_ the answers to them? ” He leaned right into her space, eyes searching her expression. “Talk about things I have no way of remembering? Hmm?”

“That is where _we_ will help you! ” Caleb did his best to keep his voice patient and level. “We have those answers and can teach you.”

“So we _are_ lying to a grieving family member. Lovely! ” Molly tossed his hands up in the air. “Gods dammit, I _knew_ I smelled a scam here! ”

“It's just to get you in the door, _ja_? Convincing the doorman so you can see the princess, as we planned! ” He put an arm around Molly’s shoulders, giving him what he hoped was a reassuring shake. He’d seen others do this and it seemed to work for them. “Just one extra step along the way! A little performance to get over this obstacle!”

“A little— You want me to - _once again_ \- stand in front of a grieving family —”

“I believe Jester is a reasonably distant cousin, she just would often visit—”

“A-and just pretend to remember a childhood I might never have had?” He started turning to stomp away, though where he expected to actually go was a mystery. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I have to say, I am surprised you would give up so easily…” Caleb rubbed the side of his head to stave off his oncoming headache. “Letting a few trivia questions stand between you and a possible lifetime as royalty, of living in the lap of luxury…”

“You listen right now - I don’t give a _shit_ about royalty _or_ money —” Molly turned back on him, tone suddenly vicious.

“That must be very relaxing for you,” Caleb cut in, coldly. “Some of us don’t have enough of a pretty face to live on kindness alone.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Fuck _you_! ” Caleb shouted back, jabbing Molly hard in the chest.

They were a hair ’s breadth from each other’s faces now, both breathing hard and letting words they’d end up regretting rise to their lips, but Nott broke in between them.

“I think it’s time everybody took a walk!” She announced loudly, a hand against each of their ribcages, doing her best to physically block their view of each other, despite being a good two feet shorter than either of them.

There was a tense moment of silence and then they both turned to storm off in opposite directions. Behind him, he heard Nott sigh with relief.

~

After a furiously whispered exchange with Caleb - after which he stalked over to the trees to take a piss and be alone with his thoughts for a bit - Nott turned her attention to Molly, where he stood on a small, mostly decorative bridge over the river, staring hard into the water with a scowl and worrying his necklace between his fingers.

“Hey.” She wandered over and bumped him with her hip, the contact landing in and around his knee, before clambering up and sitting with her legs dangling over the bridge to bring their heads level. “What d'you see in there?”

“I see _me_. ” Molly’s tone was one of somebody nearly looking for a fight, but there was a bitterness underneath it. “I've barely any past, but what I've got is _mine_ , and I’m not glossing over it for anybody.”

Nott let the silence stretch, unsure how to respond.

“I don’t feel like what came before this version of me was royalty; I don’t know _what_ he was apart from a scared kid. ” He sighed, leaning a little harder on the railing.

Nott bit her lip. They ’d done a lot of bad things to a lot of people to keep themselves afloat, but more often than not it’d been a case of using someone’s own greed to their advantage. This felt… different. Bad different. Molly had been really nice to them so far, seemed genuinely kind.

Still, Caleb seemed to think this was ok; that Molly ’s family and the real Mollymauk were both almost definitely dead; that this lie was likely the best either Molly or the princess could hope for…

“Maybe…” Nott fidgeted with her fingers, staring down past them into the water, trying to avoid both Molly’s eyes and her own reflection. “Maybe you _aren_ _’t_ royalty, right now … And I can’t say if you ever were, I’m- I’m not- I mean, I wasn’t _there_. But I do think there ’s something special about you.”

“I think Caleb sees it too,” she continued, laying a hand on his shoulder. “And I think there’s a chance you have here to- to find something that might make you happy. If you try for it.”

“Do I really seem like prince material to you?” Molly asked with another sigh.

“Well… If I hadn’t heard you snoring like that this morning, you just might.”

Just as she ’d hoped, it pulled a chuckle out of him.

~

They stayed there at the bridge in companionable silence awhile, Molly watching Nott draw patterns in the flowing water with whatever magic it was she used to pick things up. After awhile she patted him on the shoulder and headed back over to the trees to talk to Caleb. It certainly looked less heated than before, at any rate.

Eventually, after the pair seemed to have finished, he let out a final sigh, stretched out his back until he felt each nodule of his spine click back into place, and wandered over to see about talking it out.

He opened his mouth, not entirely sure of what was going to come out, but Caleb beat him to the punch.

“I feel this may be a time when I need to apologise.”

“Probably, yes.” Molly smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“It was… unfair not to tell you about Jester.” Caleb made a clear effort to look Molly in the eyes as he spoke.

“ _And_ …” Nott prompted, lightly elbowing him.

“To… to expect you would just be fine with it…?” He seemed a little less sure of that one, but Nott was nodding encouragingly. “And… I should not have let my temper get the best of me, but if you are willing, I would like to discuss how to move forward.”

Awkwardly, almost mechanically, he patted Molly twice on the arm and Nott beamed up at him, looking for all the world like she was about to break into a round of applause.

“Alright.” Molly nodded, leaning back against a tree. “I’m listening.”

“We— we do not necessarily wish to ask you to _lie_ , _per se_ …” Caleb began. “It is just that to see the princess, it is imperative that Jester approves of you as a candidate, and that may involve some preparation for you to be convincing.”

“That sounds awfully like you’re still asking me to scam this woman.” Molly crossed his arms over his chest.

“’Scamming’ is a very harsh term. I suppose it would be a case of bending some truths, as a means to an end, yes…” Caleb shuffled awkwardly, not seeming quite sure what to be doing with his hands at any given moment. “But once we tell you these facts about your former life, you _will_ know them after all. We may just need to gloss over the fact that you don ’t necessarily… remember them personally. At least to begin with. Just until we have our feet in the door.”

“I don’t know about this…” One of Molly’s fangs worried his lower lip.

“Truly, it will just be a case of learning some simple trivia, filling in some childhood blanks, and the like.” He paused a moment as a thought occurred to him. “Perhaps brush up on things like table manners…”

“We’ll get you dressed a bit less like a dodgy pirate too,” Nott added.

“ _Liebchen_ , that is not helping.” Caleb hissed.

“No, that’s fair.” Molly chuckled, eyebrows raised, and gave a shrug. “I’ve spent enough time drinking with pirates to know they have a fabulous sense of style, but not everyone appreciates it.”

“Regardless, it is all simply to bring you to the princess. _She_ will still be telling you if she thinks you're the real thing. ” He laid a hand on Molly’s shoulder, again looking into his eyes with some amount of effort. “You did leave St. Petersburg for a reason after all - will such minor details stop you from seeing this through to the end?”

The question stayed hanging in the air between them as Molly weighed up his options. Something here still wasn ’t sitting right with him at all, but he remembered the feeling of the memories that had started to flow back to him in the palace; he remembered a figure in his mind’s eye, and how desperately he’d felt he needed to reach her in that moment.

Could it be possible that was the princess, as Caleb and Nott seemed to think?

Could he forgive himself if he threw away the opportunity to find her?

“Alright.” He clenched his hands into fists - the left one still feeling tight and stiff, even with the salve working its magic - and took a deep breath, meeting Caleb’s eyes with his head held high. “Teach me.”

~

The bus was filled to the brim with people. Bored and overtired babies wailed into the air as they navigated their way down bumpy country roads; the cold air outside seemed to do nothing for the oppressive heat building up from the packed bodies; the seats were threadbare and dusty; and there, in the middle of it all, Caleb watched as Nott tried, for the third consecutive hour, to make Molly care about the intricacies of the royal family tree.

“And your Uncle Boris was son of…?” She prompted, hanging over the back of his seat.

“…a bitch?” Molly shot her a cheeky grin as she smacked him across the back of the head.

Suddenly Caleb was many miles away and many years ago, standing beside the lawns of the palace, watching the young prince flash an identical dazzling smile up at his sister.

_ The sun reflected almost blinding off the twins _ _ ’ fencing whites as they sparred, catching Caleb’s eye as he ferried potatoes from the cellar to the kitchens. He let his pace drift slower, watching Prince Mollymauk laugh and scream as he ducked and weaved around his sister, trusting in his agility to make up for their gap in strength. _

_ Princess Yasha _ _ ’s expression was slightly more stoic, though the corners of her lips were turned up. Where her brother was spending most of his time dodging and parrying, her moves were aggressive and mostly on the offensive. Spotting her opening, she swept his legs and sent him tumbling, landing on his back to find the tip of her sword hovering over his chest. It was then that he’d thrown up his hands and broke into a smile that made Caleb’s heart thud in his chest. His eyes were full of warmth and delight, crinkling at the corners as he gazed up at his twin, his sharp white fangs pressed ever so slightly against his bottom lip, and two small dimples forming on his cheeks as he laughed. _

_ Caleb had come to a complete stop at that point. Some part of him knew that to openly stare like this at a member of the Imperial court was asking for trouble, but for those few seconds, he couldn _ _ ’t even think of tearing his eyes away from the joyful scene. _

_ It was shattered only by a sharp smack across the back of his head as one of the cooks passed by, hefting an enormous pile of carrots with her. _

_ She scolded him for being idle and he had to hurry along his way, but as he went he still couldn _ _ ’t resist a glance back, taking a last look at the giddy cartwheels the boy had started turning while his sister lay back on the grass, radiating a quiet affection. _

He came back to reality with a sinking feeling in his stomach, to find two pairs of eyes staring at him.

“Penny for your thoughts, darling?” Molly’s head was quirked to the side, his expression soft and kind. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost all of a sudden.”

“Ah, nothing so dramatic, don’t worry.” Caleb did his best to pull his expression back to a neutral one, waving off Molly and Nott’s twin looks of concern. “Just a thought occurring to me. Go back to your lesson.”

After moment ’s doubtful look, Molly tilted his head back towards Nott and sighed. “Pyotr had the drinking problem and the summer home by the sea, didn’t he?”

“Finally!” She threw her hands up and rolled her eyes, rifling through loose sheets of paper she’d scribbled all over and handing him a new one. “ _Now_ you learn the names of all the cousins he fathered. There were twelve. ”

As Molly grumbled and scanned the page, Caleb felt a slight tickle around his ear, like a gentle breath, and heard Nott ’s voice whisper inside his head.

_ Caleb are you ok? YouCanReplyToThisMessage. _

_ Do not worry,  _ Liebchen, _ I am fine _ , he replied, though his thoughts were already beginning to drift into dangerous territory.

By all logic, he should have been delighted to see Molly mimic the prince so effortlessly - without being aware of it even! He wasn ’t used to spending this much time with their marks though, and certainly had never known any as a child before, in the princess’ case. In his head he kept replaying Yasha’s soft smile as she played with her brother, like a wound he couldn’t help picking at, wincing as the gently simmering guilt he’d been carrying since they began this whole charade started to rise up again.

He sighed, eyes focusing back on Nott and Molly ’s good-natured bickering. She’d scrambled up his shoulders, grabbing a horn and trying to physically shove his face into the rough diagram she’d drawn as he let out an indignant squawk. The two were getting on like a house on fire, and though they’d been travelling together barely a few days, he couldn’t help feeling Molly would leave an enormous gap when they parted ways. Nott needed someone around with a sense of adventure, with some joy in their heart, and gods knew Caleb wasn’t the person to provide that.

_ What you  _ can _ provide _ , he thought forcefully at himself,  _ is ten thousand gold to keep food in both your bellies and a decent roof over your heads. Do not throw that away over sentiment. _

The princess would certainly grow to love  _ this _ Molly also, he reasoned - it was near impossible not to, after all - and he would be treated well at her side, have a family again …

What difference would a few new drops in Caleb ’s vast ocean of self-loathing make, in any case? He was well-used to carrying it.

He pushed it all to the back of his mind, where it could hopefully stay quiet, and turned to scan the paper Molly was holding.

“I believe only one of these cousins ever visited regularly. Let’s focus on them.”

“ _Now_ he tells me. ” Molly levelled a glare at Nott, who immediately stuck out her tongue.

~

In the early morning light in a narrow, tree-lined lane, Molly found he was taking to riding a horse much the same way he ’d taken to sword-work and embroidery - suspiciously quickly.

At this point he was used to discovering he had muscle memory for things his mind wouldn ’t let him remember, but horse-riding seemed an odd one to be stored away in there. Where and when would he have  _ ever _ had the chance to be on a horse?

He said as much as they made their way down the road at a light trot, Caleb and Nott doing considerably less well in their progress.

“The… the prince _did_ begin horseback-riding at the age of three …” Caleb informed him with an indecipherable expression.

_ That would make an odd sort of sense _ , Molly supposed.  _ Though that would mean _ _ — I _ _ ’d  _ actually _ be _ _ — _

It was a lucky thing his legs apparently knew to hold tight around the saddle, because the possibility had his mind reeling. He ’d agreed to go along with this  _ on the off-chance _ it had some truth in it, but deep down he ’d thought it was probably a snowball’s chance in the nine hells.

He turned the thought over and over in his mind, trying to puzzle it out, examining it from every angle to gauge exactly how likely it was to be just a coincidence. He knew better by now than to raise his hopes too high over such shaky evidence. He could easily just be the son of some stable-hands who let him spend time with the horses. Hells, for all he knew, he could have been  _ raised _ by horses in the woods or something - it was no less far-fetched than being a secret prince, after all. It ’d be a hell of a thing to start truly believing in, only to find it wasn’t true.

And then, gods, what if it  _ was _ ? Good looks and sparkling personality aside, he ’d hardly fit in around royalty, would he?

He pulled over to the side of the road, claiming to need a bathroom break, and leaned back against a tree, taking slow deep breaths.

~

Molly had been quiet for several hours, wrapped up in his thoughts since shortly after they ’d started out on the horses, and loath as Caleb was to admit it, he missed the sound of the tiefling’s infectious laughter and lilting voice. It certainly would have eased the journey as he and Nott struggled to stay upright in the saddle.

As they -  _ blessedly _ \- stopped in a village to switch from the horses to a set of rented bicycles, they stepped into a roadside shop that seemed to mostly cater to tourists. It was filled with tacky and useless items, things that sparkled but would most certainly break within minutes of purchase, handmade crafts, books of local legends, and run by a grinning, sharp-eyed dwarven woman with a streak of pink dyed into her beard. By all previous experience of the man ’s tastes, Molly should have been in his element, but he only picked up a few items listlessly as he stood in the doorway - seeming to stare more into the space around them than at the things themselves - lost deep in thought or some mood that had overtaken him.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Nott ’s hand reaching nervously towards a shelf and the dwarven woman shift forward in her seat in response, so he murmured quickly into his piece of wire to warn her before she was caught. Her face fell, so he added:  _ Bring me what you want and I will buy it for you,  _ Liebchen _. _

Molly wandered back outside to lean against a low brick wall, gazing up into the cloudy blue sky with a sigh. Caleb had been expecting him to engage the shopkeeper in a long, excited discussion and he didn ’t know why it bothered him as much as it did, but seeing a Molly that wasn’t filled with enthusiasm and zest for life seemed wrong to him now.

On the way to the counter, he came across a delicate piece of jewellery sitting on a deep blue velvet pouch. Three thin chains draped between two rings, metal charms of the sun and the moon at either end, with a scattering of small stars in between. It seemed a shame that Molly hadn ’t come in far enough to see it, since he was sure it would sit perfectly amongst the other various things the man had dangling from his horns.

Before he could begin to overthink it, he ’d pulled it from the shelf and brought it to the front along with the bag of marbles Nott had taken a fancy to.

~

After finishing with the bikes, they ’d boarded a barge set to bring them most of the way to the coast, where apparently there’d be a ship waiting to take them to France. Molly leaned against the railing, gazing down at his reflection in the water as the low-setting winter sun cast long shadows all around him.

His mind had been running in circles all day and it was starting to wear on him. Mostly he was just looking forward to collapsing into his bed; especially since tonight he actually  _ had one _ . The last few nights, they ’d been camping inside a - quite frankly very impressive - little dome of energy Caleb could magic out of thin air, and though it kept the cold out, it did nothing for the lumpiness of the ground. He wasn’t exactly unused to making do with whatever shelter he could charm his way into, but at least within the city, the floor you laid your bedroll out on would be usually be flat and free of those sharp little stones.

Caleb ’s face appeared beside his in the water after a while, not quite staring into his reflected eyes, but definitely in his general direction. They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, watching the reeds at the water’s edge drift by, before Caleb cleared his throat.

“I apologise if this is strange,” he began, reaching into his coat to produce a small velvet pouch, directing his gaze somewhere over Molly’s shoulder as he held it out. “But I saw this and, ah— and thought of you.”

Molly couldn ’t help breaking into a beaming grin, before placing his hand against his heart and leaning a little further into Caleb’s space. He let what was usually his most successful flirting tone seep into his voice as he looked up from under his lashes. “Why, Caleb, you were thinking of me?”

“ _Briefly_ , yes.” He shuffled slightly, still resolutely not looking Molly in the eyes, and now sporting an adorable blush. The tips of his ears were starting to turn pink as he pressed the little bag into Molly’s hands. “You seemed… not yourself today. So, I hoped this might help. Somewhat. With that.”

_ Oh. That _ _ ’s… Oh. _

Molly felt a swell of warmth in his chest as he opened the pouch, drawing out a piece of jewellery to drape from his horns, with charms of the moon, the sun, and the stars hanging from the chains. He ran his thumb along the cool metal, almost reverently; it was gorgeous.

“I… thank you, Caleb.” Molly’s voice sounded strange in his own ears. “This is really thoughtful, I— _thank you_. ”

“Truly, it was nothing. It just seemed very… _you_ , is all.” Caleb waved up and down in Molly’s general direction, looking even less sure of himself now, and more uncomfortable by the second. “And your day seemed to be going poorly. And I believed you should have it.”

“It does, at least, seem to have made you smile again.” Caleb added, risking a glance at Molly’s face.

“So it has.” Molly ducked his head for a moment to hang the chains from his horns, fastening the two rings securely and settling it so that the charms could sway and jingle as he moved. He leaned over to check his reflection in the water and found it sat just beautifully amongst his other pieces - a perfect fit. He turned and laid a hand softly on Caleb’s arm. “ _Really_ , thank you. I love it.”

“A-again, it was nothing. I— I believe Nott will be wondering where I am. I’ll see you inside.” Caleb turned away, his face now completely red, barely attempting to pretend he wasn’t just fleeing the scene, leaving Molly to stare after him with an oddly fond smile.

~

There was an unfortunate stretch after leaving the barge where they could find no better option than to walk. Thankfully Caleb could somehow act as a human compass, so there was no risk of getting lost, but it did have the effect of stretching a relatively small distance into a full day ’s travel. By the time the sun began to dip, they were still far shy of their destination, so they decided to set up camp in a clearing by a stream, a short way into the woods.

Molly sat stirring a hearty stew suspended over the fire. Passing through a village in the afternoon, he ’d been able to bargain for some potatoes and a handful of other vegetables, as well as chunks of spiced meat. He hummed to himself, across from Nott, who was absolutely cremating a fish from the stream and what he was fairly sure was a rat. He tried not to look too closely, and not to judge, but didn’t make a very good job of either. He hoped she’d at least eat some of the stew as well; he didn’t think he’d seen her touch a vegetable the entire time they’d been travelling.

Caleb wandered over just as he pulled the pot off the fire.

“I believe now would be a good time to practice something we have been neglecting, Molly - your table manners.” He immediately began to wander back in the direction he’d come from. “I have set something up for you and I over here.”

Molly rolled his eyes. There went any thoughts about a nice relaxing meal. He finished filling two of the wooden bowls from their camping supplies, then rose to follow.  “And Nott gets to escape this, because…?”

“Because I’m a filthy goblin, unfit for society,” she replied primly, sticking her tongue out at him the moment Caleb’s back was turned. “So I get to roast these in the fire and eat the whole lot with my bare hands.”

“Also I could not find a stump big enough to seat all three of us,” Caleb added, starting to lead Molly a little way off to the side. “Though you do still have cutlery, _schatz_. ”

“I said I get to eat the _whole lot_ with my _hands_ , Caleb.” She wiggled her fingers for emphasis and grinned at Molly, showing all of her teeth.

~

A short walk past the tree-line, within sight of the stream, Caleb stopped and stood aside to reveal the little scene he ’d constructed. “Not much, I know, but it will do for practice.”

A square of chequered fabric with fraying, un-hemmed edges was draped over a tree-stump behind him, set up as close to a dining table as anyone could manage given their supplies. There were two sets of mismatched cutlery, two candles that looked as if they might have come from a temple, two wineglasses - one only mildly cracked - next to a bottle of wine, and even a few small wildflowers propped in a glass vial in the centre as a makeshift vase. It was barely wide enough to fit their two bowls on either side of these centrepieces, but overall, the effect of a proper table had been achieved fairly well.

“Why Caleb, I’m impressed!” Molly could feel his tail swishing delightedly behind him. He’d had to chop the ingredients for the stew with one of Nott’s daggers, and had been expecting to be drinking it directly from the bowl - this was certainly an upgrade. “Where did you pull all this from?”

“The silverware and the vial are borrowed from Nott’s collection. And I must admit, most of the rest, I… appropriated as we passed through that town a few hours ago,” he finished with a sheepish smile.

“You remain, as ever, full of surprises and _delightfully_ resourceful, darling. ” Molly set down their bowls to complete the scene, then plopped down cross-legged on one side of the ‘table.’

“I noticed you were finding us a solid meal, so I thought it might be a good opportunity.” Caleb sat himself on the opposite side and picked up a spoon. “Not that it would be possible in this case, but lesson one is: elbows are not to rest on the table.”

“Noted,” Molly replied, immediately leaning forward and looking for a spare inch of room next to his bowl. Upon finding some, he placed an elbow there and propped his hand under his chin, grinning up at Caleb.

“Yes, yes, I see you being funny.” Caleb rolled his eyes. “Just remember to keep your elbows to yourself in front of the Lavorres, please.”

Molly sat back and picked up his bowl, still smiling, gently blowing on a spoonful of the stew before tasting it. It was good, he was happy to discover - the spices from the meat lending it flavour and the comforting warmth of the liquid spreading through him. Caleb seemed to be of that opinion as well, going by the look of pleasant surprise on his face.

As they ate, Caleb ran through explanations of the excessive knives and forks you could expect to find at a formal dinner table, describing the placement and appearance of each one from memory, as well as when to use it. Next came the etiquette around napkin use, and how to tell the difference between your water and wine glasses. It was a lucky thing that Caleb had such a pleasing voice, and there was food to distract him, or Molly would have been at risk of collapsing from boredom.

“Now, I know we can only sit on the ground here, but at the dinner table you must sit straight and with your shoulders back, like this…” Caleb rose to his knees, shuffling around to Molly’s side to adjust his posture manually, one hand pulling his shoulders back and the other nudging his spine just between his shoulder-blades to encourage him to sit up. Caleb’s hands were warm, his touch comforting, and when they lifted, his skin felt cold in their absence.

“Oh, like _this_? ” Molly fell into an exaggerated slouch and was rewarded as he’d hoped, with those hands returning to correct him.

“Ah, I see we aren’t done being funny yet,” Caleb said, sounding exasperated but still amused in spite of himself. One hand drifted down, the palm resting gently against Molly’s lower back as it guided his spine into place.

Molly smiled wide and let himself curve as far backwards as he was able, curling over Caleb ’s arm until he was in real danger of tipping over. When Caleb shifted his position to catch him, he let himself go limp, starting to giggle at the expression he caught on the other man’s face.

“You are a menace,” Caleb huffed, clearly trying and failing to contain his smile as he levered Molly back to being at least somewhat vertical. “Now sit straight.”

“Never done a thing straight in my life, darling,” he replied, earning an honest-to-gods, out-loud laugh.

“I could claim something similar, I suppose, but nonetheless,” Caleb said as he finally pulled Molly back up, giving him a firm tap around his middle-back before pulling his hands away. “Sit upright.”

Molly put on an exaggerated pout as Caleb moved back to his position on the other side of the tree, but the effect was ruined by the fact that he couldn ’t stop smiling.

They continued on after that, some instruction here and there, but mostly a meal spent at ease in each other ’s company. It felt warm and natural, the flickering candlelight and the glow of Caleb’s magical globules illuminated the patch of forest they occupied and separated it from the night-dark world around them, as if nothing and no-one existed outside of this little space they shared.

As they finished their last spoonfuls and Molly went to take another sip of wine, Caleb announced:  “And now, I believe, we raise our glasses and give a toast.”

“I’ve one,” Molly murmured, the heady warmth of the wine in his belly making him brave, as he leaned in to clink his glass against Caleb’s over the centre of the ‘table.’ “To my dear and wonderful Caleb: who knew there was a romantic in you?”

Caleb didn ’t quite seem to know what to do with that. Red bloomed high on his cheeks and he stammered, completely forgetting to lower his arm, leaving his glass suspended in the air long after Molly had brought his own back to his lips.

“I have been called a great many things, but a romantic has not been one of them.”

“That's a shame,” Molly purred. “I think it suits you, letting your soft side out.”

“Softness is a luxury I cannot often afford,” Caleb replied sadly, finally taking a drink from his glass.

Molly was about to comment on what a shame  _ that _ was too, when a flicker of unnatural light around Caleb ’s forearm caught his eye. “CALEB!”

At some point between forgetting about his glass and finally bringing it back to rest on the tree, Caleb ’s sleeve must have passed too close to one of the candles, because it was now  _ on fire.  _ Caleb's eyes blew wide and he reared back with a strangled shout.

Molly immediately grabbed the tablecloth and yanked, up-ending everything that had made their little table. He quickly wrapped it around Caleb ’s arm with his entire own upper body, smothering the flames. He held on a few moments, then tugged Caleb towards the stream, encouraging him to plunge his arm into the water, nearly up to the shoulder to be sure.

A few charred bits of the edges of Caleb ’s shirt-sleeve detached and were carried away in the flow of the current. Caleb was still wide-eyed but barely reacting, the main sign that he was even aware of the situation was the rapid rising and falling of his chest.

“Well, shit… Caleb, I’m just going to— I need to check if you’re hurt, okay?” Breathing hard himself, Molly ran a claw up through the fabric, shakily, tearing the seam of the sleeve nearly up to the armpit so he could check the skin beneath it.

He carefully pulled it away, and it came without any resistance, or any flesh attached, which he took as a promising sign, but almost immediately he was confronted by a series of angry red marks scattered across the pale skin.

“Oh, fuck, it—” Molly started, but as he pulled the fabric back further and actually looked at them, there was no way these could be fresh burns, or have come from so minor a fire. They continued under the sleeve, above where the blackened edges gave way to normal fabric again, far above where they could have been caused by _this_ fire. They were burns alright, but they were scars - extensive and old, twining up as far as Molly dared to check, and showing no signs of stopping there. There was a patch closer to Caleb ’s wrist that most likely _was_ freshly - though thankfully mildly - injured, but it was overshadowed by the sheer volume of scarring around it. He let out a pained noise in sympathy.  “ _Oh_. _Caleb_ …”

Several things suddenly made a great deal more sense.

Coming back to his senses, Caleb snatched his arm back and held it tight against his stomach, shrinking away and frantically trying to pull the torn sleeve back over his exposed scars.

“You were not supposed to see that,” he said breathlessly, something close to a laugh bubbling up, but utterly devoid of humour. “That was not something I had intended to share.”

“Caleb…” Molly started, but was cut off with a dismissive wave of the other man’s hand.

“I suppose you will want to know. People usually do.” His voice was quiet and resigned.

“I just need to know if you’re okay, you don’t have to tell me what happened—” Molly moved to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“My own damned stupidity happened.” Caleb spat out venomously, then, seeing Molly flinch back, ran a hand through his hair and sighed, deflating.

“The night of the siege, parts of the palace— there were fires. I found myself in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He began to pull the torn edges of his shirt-sleeve together, grunting slightly when they fell straight away from each other again, and eventually just giving up. “I was foolhardy, and did not run when I should have, so the flames had an opportunity to reach me. Now I must carry these.”

“How young were—”

“Quite young.” Caleb sighed. “Though still perhaps old enough to know better.”

“In here I feel I must have lived a hundred years or more.” He tapped the side of his head, laughing bitterly. “But in reality I believe I am not that much older than yourself, so not far off your own age at that time.”

Molly felt something tighten in his chest.  “You were just a  _ child _ …”

“ _Ja_ , and so were you - most likely an even younger one - yet here you sit with your own scars from the revolution.” He then started to speak as if reciting a thing he’d said a hundred times - which perhaps he had, in this case - toneless, detached, and flat. “There was much loss, and much suffering, that night - I am not at all special in that regard and should not sit around feeling sorry for myself.”

Just hearing it made Molly ’s heart hurt.

“Caleb…” He risked reaching out to lay a hand on the man’s arm, feeling him stiffen momentarily but thankfully make no move to pull away. “You were so young, it must have been— And you talk about it like it was your _fault_ , like you deserved it somehow…” He risked holding Caleb’s other arm, pulling himself around to look directly into his eyes so he could be sure his conviction would be heard. “That’s not right. That’s not _true_. ”

“You don’t even know how it happened. You can’t know that.” Caleb’s eyes flickered up briefly to meet Molly’s, confused and guarded.

“I don’t care,” Molly stated simply, letting his thumb start to move in soothing circles where it rested on Caleb’s arm. “I know you could never deserve— _No-one_ could — Just for a wrong decision on such a dangerous, scary night…”

“You were so young.” He could see Caleb’s expression starting to collapse into something more painful, more vulnerable, the beginning of tears forming at the corners of his eyes and his limbs trembling. Molly pulled him into a full hug, rubbing one hand up and down his back. “It wasn’t your fault. It could _never_ be your fault, darling, I ’m so sorry. I’m so sorry it happened to you, but please, _please_ trust me that you didn ’t deserve any of it, ok?”

He could feel a wet patch starting to bloom on his shoulder where Caleb finally leaned into him, letting himself be held as he shook and silently let his tears fall. Molly breathed in his earthy scent - the smell of parchment and ink and a few unexpected undertones from his most recent spell components, mixing with the smoke of their recent fire - and felt at peace for a moment, in spite of how heartbreaking the situation was. Caleb, held against his chest, breathed in too, shaky but deep, and Molly kept up his steady circling rhythm across his back.  “That’s right - nice deep breaths, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Caleb let himself be soothed for a few more precious moments and then Molly felt the man ’s breath hitch. Before he could even ask what was wrong, Caleb was pulling back out of his arms, scrambling unevenly to his feet.

“N-no! No, I— I appreciate what you’re trying to do - it is very kind - but no…” He backed away, shaking his head, his posture stiff and defensive, his eyes wild. “No. I don’t deserve— I can’t accept— Gods, if you _knew_ — I…” He deflated, leaning against a tree for support, staring at the ground. In a monotone he said: “I’m sorry. I am going to bed. I would prefer we didn’t speak of this tomorrow…”

With that he was practically bolting away.

“Caleb!” Molly called out but the man just shook his head and refused to turn back around, not breaking stride for a second.

Molly watched after him until he disappeared back into the trees, at a loss as to what to do next. After a few seconds, the  _ dancing lights _ flickered and went out, leaving him with just the light of the moon and the now-deafening silence. He let himself slide down the bark of a tree, staring at the space that Caleb had left, trying to wrap his head around what had just  _ happened _ .

He distantly registered Nott yelling in surprise, probably at the state Caleb was returning in, but apart from that the woods were quiet. As he sat and felt the chill of the ground creeping into his bones, all he could think was:

_ It was all going so well _ _ … _

~

Molly woke up in the first moments of the early dawn light, to a crossbow being pointed at his face. It wasn ’t the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last, but it was still a distinct relief to realise who was wielding it.

“What did you do to him?” Nott’s voice wasn’t loud - pitched to avoid waking Caleb, where he lay bundled up on the opposite side of the clearing - but there was a steady, cold venom to it.

“Oh, put it away,” Molly sighed and raked a hand down his face as his heartbeat started to come back down from the initial shock. He was not at _all_ in the mood.  “Why aren’t you asking _him_ about it? ”

“H-he didn’t want to talk about it.” She was sounding less sure now, her crossbow wavering slightly but still pointed right at Molly as he sat up, hugging his knees to his chest against the cold morning air. “You must have done something to him! It was more than the new burn - he wouldn’t talk to me _or_ Frumpkin … A-and he forgot to put up the magic bubble and the alarm spell a-and everything.”

“That’s just ‘cause he’s a stubborn asshole,” Molly muttered into his own knees, without much feeling behind it. “That’s not my doing.”

She ’d sounded particularly unsettled by the lack of their nighttime routine, and it occurred to Molly that it  _ did _ seem very unlike the methodical man he ’d come to know this last while. Even after their near-death experience on the train, he’d just leapt right into cataloguing the items left in the carriages. Though it could be that, since they’re far enough west now to not be at risk of freezing at night by camping normally, he’d just decided to conserve the energy. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

“Well,” she started, biting her lip and frowning. “Go apologise to him anyway. Just in case. It’s different this time, and you’re the only difference, so it has to be you!” She nudged his leg with her foot a few times, making a shooing gesture with the tip of her nocked arrow. “Go on!”

Molly didn ’t bother asking what he was supposed to be apologising  _ for _ , figuring it would just be easier to go along with it. He staggered to his feet with his blanket around his shoulders, using a tree for support, and took a moment to stretch out his body, stiff from a night spent with the chill still in the air. He took a steadying breath before picking his way over to where Caleb and Nott had slept.

Caleb was still asleep, though looking pale and haunted, even away in his dreams and with Frumpkin curled protectively around the top of his head. That same hurt from last night lanced through Molly ’s chest, looking down at him. He could probably use all the sleep he could get, so Molly didn’t necessarily want to be waking him, but he couldn’t imagine Nott letting him go back to his own bedroll until she had something resembling her usual Caleb back. He stooped to toss a few bits of wood onto their dwindling campfire, staring into the dying embers for a moment before sitting on a log beside Caleb.

“Hey there,” he tried in a gentle voice, lightly skimming a hand down where he thought the man’s arm should be beneath his blanket. Caleb stirred momentarily, rolling towards the touch and provoking an indignant ‘mrrp’ noise from Frumpkin, but didn’t wake.

Molly looked over to Nott, who immediately gestured for him to keep going. He sighed, mouthing  ‘ _ fine, but _ _ — _ ’ at her and making his own signals that she should give them some privacy. Her mouth twisted for a moment, then she gave him the ‘I’m Watching You’ gesture and pointed at her crossbow before nodding and melting away into the trees like a little green ghost.

Molly rolled his eyes and gave Caleb a firmer nudge.  “Hey there.”

Caleb startled and pulled back, then squinted up at him.

“Oh. Hello Molly.” He averted his eyes, propping himself up but also curling in on himself a little. “I. Give me a moment.” He sat up and brushed a harsh hand over his face a few times, then shook his head back and forth. The night’s cobwebs thoroughly dislodged, he took a deep breath, then sat nervously stroking Frumpkin in his lap, practically flinching and giving the distinct impression he was waiting for the axe to fall. “I am ready. Say your piece.”

“Caleb, I’m not gonna—” Fully taken aback, and anything he might have been about to say completely forgotten, Molly began to reach out a hand. He pulled it back a bare second later though, remembering the night before. “Are you _okay_? ”

“No, I don’t believe I am, but that’s not important,” he sighed. “Let us get this over with quickly.”

“Caleb, what do you think is happening here?”

“Ah… you informing me that you want nothing more to do with me and that we must now go our separate ways? I assumed?”

“What?” It was most definitely not what Molly had been expecting to hear. He tilted his head, unsure of what his face might be doing at that moment. “I. No?”

“N-no?”

“I mean, we do need to talk about, uh. About what the _fuck_ , in general…” Molly gestured vaguely around with one hand. “But no. Gods, no, I wasn’t coming over here to— to do that. No.”

Relief washed over Caleb ’s features almost immediately.

“Though, I suppose it _would_ be too much to ask that we pretend it never happened, and never spoke of it again? ” He asked, without much hope.

“I suppose we can do that _after_ we talk, if you feel you need to, ” Molly laughed, glad to see a ghost of a smile appearing on Caleb’s face. “I try not to live too much in the past if I can help it, really. But I can’t see us getting too much further down the road with this big of an elephant still in the room, so…”

“I—” Caleb seemed ready to protest for a second before resigning himself. “ _Ja_. Ok. That is fair. ”

Silence stretched out between them for a long few moments, only Frumpkin ’s purring disturbing it.

“So. Last night,” Molly says.

“Last night,” Caleb agrees with a grimace, but doesn’t expand on it.

“I guess, first off, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you, so I’m sorry that’s what ended up happening.” Molly supposes he’ll have to be the one to get things rolling.

“You… _You_ are apologising to _me_? ” Caleb's voice was incredulous, verging on suspicious.

“For that part at any rate,” Molly scraped the hair back off his face absently. “The candle thing wasn’t really either of our faults.”

“Molly, I— you were very kind to me last night. Far, far kinder than I deserve.” Caleb screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. “I… I am a _garbage person_ —”

“Caleb, you’re absolutely nothing of the sort—”

“And _because_ I am a garbage person, I ran away, ” he pressed on, ignoring Molly’s words.

What hurt the most about hearing Caleb speak that way about himself was the sheer conviction of it, when Molly knew it wasn ’t anywhere close to true. He knew Caleb could be gruff, could be difficult and stubborn, but he’d seen his good heart too. He knew how much the man cared for Nott, how he doted on her, how he’d gone out of his way to cheer Molly up yesterday… It was all so plain in his own head, but he sensed if he tried too hard to convince Caleb of any of it, it would likely just end up overwhelming him again.

“I think you’re a good man, Caleb Widogast, and Nott does too.” Molly clasped Caleb’s hands and let each word out steadily, hoping they might sink in at least a little that way. “Whether you share that belief or not.”

Caleb made a noncommittal grunt, looking uncomfortable as expected, but not pulling his hands away just yet.  “Either way, I am sorry. It wasn’t right to run off on you in such a way…”

“You’re forgiven, darling,” Molly said, giving his hands a gentle pat before he let them go. They immediately returned to stroking the cat. “Now, as promised we don’t have to talk any more about it if you don’t want. It can be in the past. Instead…” He thought back to the orphanage, how they would often swap stories or play truth-based games at night when they couldn't sleep. “How about we lighten the mood and tell each other… hmm… the best lie we’ve ever told?”

Caleb ’s eyes immediately flickered over him and then away, filled with either panic or… quite possibly guilt, it was hard to tell.

“Oooor, we don’t have to do that one at all. We can trade different stories entirely,” Molly added hurriedly, eyes casting around their campsite for inspiration until they landed on Nott’s bedroll. “How about I’ll tell you about my very first tattoo, and you give me the story of how you and our little green friend found each other.”

Caleb seemed confused for a second but agreed.  “Alright. That seems fair. You’ll be amused to know, my first impression of Nott was of her trying to smash my head in with a sweeping brush.”

Molly had to bend double and turn to the side to avoid spluttering all over Caleb, straightening up as the fit of startled laughter subsided.  “Oh, I  _ have _ to hear this. ”

“I had been operating out of the palace a decent while, but there was still always the concern of being arrested for squatting. When I heard someone making a disturbance in the kitchens, I was wary of it bringing trouble down on my head, so I held a spell ready and went to investigate. Clearly I had not been as stealthy as I presumed, because as I rounded the corner, I very narrowly avoided being hit in the face with the sweeping brush I mentioned.” He paused to allow Molly’s giggles to subside. “It was a very large brush. Looking back, it was quite impressive.”

“The spell I had prepared is used to hold a person in place by magical means, and so the brush froze when my magic hit its target.” The corners of Caleb’s lip tugged up a little. “She was… quite indignant about it at the time. I remember several very creative threats.”

“As you can imagine, it became clear quite quickly that she would be just as wary of attracting the law’s attention. She had only been in the process of trying to gather what food might still be edible in the palace. I agreed to drop the spell if she would drop the broom, and offered her some of my own food. By the time our meal had ended, I had noticed she was limping, and I found myself offering her a place to stay while she healed. As time went on, we became… the closest thing either one of us has to family, if I’m being honest.” Caleb was smiling softly as he finished.

“She’s a funny little thing, isn’t she?” Molly laughed fondly.

“She’s a very dear friend to me,” came the firm reply.

“I can tell. You work well together, and I see how much you care for her.” Molly leaned in to stage-whisper: “ _And_ I know for a fact she ’d stab me for even looking funny at you.”

“I don’t know what I did to inspire such loyalty, but I feel honoured to have it nonetheless,” Caleb agreed, then, perhaps sensing he was about to drift back into his darker lines of thought, he resolutely looked up, focusing his gaze on Molly. “So, tell me all about little Molly’s first tattoo.”

“Heh. Little Molly had stopped being so little by that time, but he _was_ new to the city, and had taken a fancy to a stunningly handsome young sailor …”

Molly continued on, laying out the whole story, talking of the ships and the docks, of his youthful tryst with the sailor, and of the friendly hostility between himself and the ship ’s healer, who maintained she had ‘better things to be doing than watching over some pretty-boy’s tattoo work so his dumb ass doesn’t end up fainting’. By the time he’d got around to detailing the time he’d helped her with a wildly mismatched bar-fight, Caleb was actually laughing out loud, the light returned to his eyes at last.

Nott barrelled back into the clearing at the sound, to tackle Caleb in a tight hug, nearly knocking him over and making him flush.

Caleb ruffled her hair and returned the hug tentatively, affection plain in his face.  “Hello,  _ Liebchen _ . I ’m sorry for worrying you.”

Frumpkin had leapt to the side just in time to avoid being caught up in it, and was now tentatively padding back over to see if he could join in on his own terms.

Watching the scene, Molly leaned back with a pleased sigh, which quickly grew into a yawn.  “D’you think we could try for a bit more sleep now? It has to be five in the morning…”

“Just past six, in fact,” Caleb replied, tapping the side of his head. “And if you give me a few minutes, I will do what I should have last night.”

Molly watched, still fascinated despite seeing it several times already, as Caleb formed the protective magical dome that had kept them comfortable every other night of camping. As it solidified, the air warmed to a much more pleasant temperature, and the morning dampness disappeared. He felt the slight tremor of cold in his limbs that he ’d been ignoring for several hours, start to melt away.

Nott had already pulled her bedroll over to lay it beside Caleb ’s, and as soon as he lay back down, she threw herself in beside him, all of her limbs wrapped around his torso like an octopus, only moving one arm temporarily to wrap her blanket tight around them both. There was a sudden, unidentified yearning in Molly’s chest.

“If nobody minds, I don’t feel much like moving, so…” He took a chance and plopped himself in beside the two of them, adding his own blanket to the pile.

Caleb coughed awkwardly, turning his hips away slightly, but then relaxed and gave a soft nod.

Nott had already begun to snore quietly, her face buried in Caleb ’s chest, and Molly let all his muscles relax as he just listened to that and the steady rhythm of Caleb’s breathing. He felt his eyes start to drift closed as a small weight pressed into the blankets just between his shoulder and Caleb’s and began to purr. The pleasant warmth inside the dome and sound of his sleeping companions felt soothing to him, and he soon fell into a comfortable doze, feeling safe and content. 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently my estimate of "how long will this scene be" is a little wonky, since I didn't imagine chapter 5 being 10k, and now this one isn't nearly as long as I thought it'd be, but oh well. 
> 
> Big thanks as always to Myri and Gray, and also to the WM discord!

The wind whipped through Molly's hair, the vibrations of the bike ’s engine reverberated up through his legs, and his hands were linked tightly around Caleb's waist as they sped down the road. The sun was shining down on them, and  _ damn _ was it a good day to be alive.

Nott didn't seem to entirely agree, sitting nestled amongst their luggage in the sidecar, only her head visible, as she kept a secure hold on Frumpkin. Her ears were twitching back and every so often she'd grimace.

“I’d’ve thought you'd like this!” Molly shouted over the breeze.

“ _This_ is fine. It's what it's taking us to I'm worried about. ” She scowled. “Big boat on the sea, all that water - I don't trust it!”

“I know, _liebchen_ , but it's only a day or so of a journey. You’ll be alright, I promise.” The bike wobbled slightly as Caleb turned his head to reassure her and Molly reached forward to gently turn it back towards the road.

Nott made a grunting sound that could theoretically be taken as agreement and busied herself petting the cat, muttering something about no good ever coming of the sea.

A dam seemed to have broken that morning that put Molly on Caleb ’s list of people he was happy to have physical contact with - a list that seemed to comprise of only Nott and Frumpkin before that, so Molly felt honoured - and it made his position on the journey all that much nicer. He spent the afternoon savouring the soft warmth of Caleb’s body in his arms, letting his head rest lightly against Caleb’s shoulder when he felt sleepy, purring little jokes into his ear to make him laugh or blush, and feeling the gentle shake of him as he’d chuckle. It was the most peaceful he’d felt since he'd decided to leave St. Petersburg.

“Molly, have you ever been on a ship?” Caleb called back over his shoulder.

“I’ve been on-board plenty to drink with the crew and gamble,” Molly laughed, filing away a mental note that he must see if Caleb knew how to play poker. “But never one that’s actually been sailing, now you mention.”

“Neither have I, but we are about to fix that, my friend.” Caleb beamed - actually beamed! - back at him and Molly swore he felt his heart skip a beat. _Gods_ , he was a beautiful sight when he let himself have a little joy.

They rounded a bend and then suddenly there was a vast expanse of shimmering blue below them, stretching all the way to the horizon. He could see the path they were following wind all the way down to the harbour.

Molly hadn ’t realised they were so close, and now that he knew to look for it, he could catch a hint of the sea on the breeze. He breathed it in deep, relishing the freshness, then clenched his thighs tight against the bike and threw his arms into the air with an exuberant whoop.

“Stop that! You’ll fall off!” Caleb reprimanded him frantically, but he was flushed and laughing when they pulled into the docks, the wind from the sea whipping around them as they looked up at the enormous ship, ready to take them the rest of the way to France.

~

There was a little cottage towards the rear of The Ruby of the Sea’s estate, painted white and blue, with a little sun-room at the back where tea would usually be served. There, Beau was watching Yasha’s face fall, looking at the third non-Mollymauk Ruby had let through _that_ _day_. She swore she saw the beginning of tears in the woman ’s eyes.

“Have you got nothing better to do, man? _Seriously?_ ” She shooed the purple impostor towards the hallway with her staff, making sure it connected with his ankles.

“Go on, _git!_ ” Fjord stomped into the hall to make sure he left.

“You _stinky_ faker, get out, get _out_ of this house. ” She heard the door slam and Jester stormed back into the room, pouting, followed silently by the half-orc bodyguard. “I totally swear, Yasha, I'll have my mom think up a _really_ hard set of questions for the next one before she lets him see us, just wait! Only the _really_ real Molly will get it! ”

“No.” Yasha shook her head, eyes cast down at the table and leaning most of her weight on her sword. Beau decided not to point out the hard metal tip of the scabbard was leaving a dent in Ruby's wooden floor because, really, that was _Ruby's_ damn problem. Yasha was hers. Besides, if she really wanted her guest-house floors un-dented she ’d be screening these jokers a bit better.

“You'll see – it's gonna be _so_ good! ” Jester's voice was more strained than usual as she danced around the room tidying up the cups and saucers. “I'm learning this new spell that means you can only tell the truth, and—”

“ _No._ ” Yasha's voice sounded achingly sad as she moved to stand.

Her eyes had developed near-constant dark circles over these last few months and they made something in Beau ache every time she looked at them. When she ’d gone with Yasha on each trip to Paris before, it had been rough of course, for Yasha to come home empty-handed each time. She'd be down for at least a few days before Beau could coax a smile out of her again. But with the ability to offer a reward and time to dedicate to the search, there was barely any space between each heartbreak now. Beau wanted to smash in the face of every last one of these bastards trying to cash in on a grieving woman's hopes.

Hope was  _ killing _ her.

“Yasha—”

“ _No_. That's the last Molly I'm seeing. No more. ”

“But if you don't see any more how will you-” Jester reached towards her.

Still shaking her head, Yasha silently walked out of the room.

“I'll talk to her.” Beau shot an awkward nod in Jester and Fjord's direction and jogged out after Yasha.

She found her leaning against the side wall of the house, her head tilted back and her eyes screwed shut. Even by her normal other-worldly standards, her skin was pale.

“Beau, I- I can't do this anymore. It's like…” She must have heard her approach, since her eyes hadn't even opened. “Like I have this open wound for a decade now – it just won't heal – and every single day, a new boy who looks a _little_ bit like my brother walks in to rub salt in it. _My heart can't take it_. ”

“Yash… Yash, look at me.” Beau moved in front of her as the tears started to silently fall, stretching up a little to cup Yasha’s cheek in her hand and brush away one with her thumb. “You don’t have to— If you don’t wanna do this anymore, man - we can call the whole thing off. Like _that_. ” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “It’s not worth it if it’s doing this to you.”

“It’s just…” Yasha let out a long sigh, sounding as if the weight of the whole damn world was behind it. “All this time, it’s felt like. Like if I give up, then he’s really gone. And I can’t— I don’t _want_ him to really be gone, Beau. ”

“I know. I know you don’t. It’s unfair as _fuck_ , man.” Beau pulled Yasha’s head down to her shoulder, trying to wrap around her as much as humanly possible, running a hand up and down her back. “But you’re not… It isn’t betraying him, to take some space from this, y’know? And I’ll be with you, whatever. You know that.”

She felt Yasha nodding shakily against her shoulder and pressed her lips softly into her mass of dark hair.

“You want me to just say to Jester she can tell any new fake Mollys to go fuck themselves?” Beau had honestly wanted to tell every last one of them to go fuck themselves for _months_.

She felt a wet laugh against her collarbone.

“I…” Yasha started, her voice thick with grief as she straightened up. A complex range of expressions flitted across her face, before she finally screwed her eyes shut and balled her hands into fists. “I. Yes. I think it’s time…”

~

“Molly?” Caleb was holding a small pile of clothes when Molly turned. “Nott was of the opinion that we should be well-dressed when we present ourselves tomorrow, so she, ah… she acquired some formal clothing for us.”

“Should we be careful wearing it outside our room, since its owner might be looking?” Molly asked, barely suppressing laughter.

“I believe it was from somebody’s clothesline, so I think we are safe.”

Caleb passed over the first item from the pile and Molly turned it over and over, trying to figure out why Nott had picked this for him.

“What are you looking for?” Caleb’s eyebrow was raised.

“Some straps, some buckles…” Molly trailed off with a smirk, holding the shirt out at arm’s length. “I figure the way this thing looks, it has to be a straitjacket.”

“ _Tch_! ” Caleb rolled his eyes. “Keep going like that and I _will_ tie you down. ”

“That a promise, Mr. Widogast?” Molly purred, his tail curling up behind him like a question mark.

“Just put it on, _mein Gott_. ” Still rolling his eyes but sputtering slightly, Caleb threw him the matching pair of trousers and headed for the door. “Meet me on the deck when you’re done - we will be learning to dance.”

~

Standing on a crate to reach, Nott tied a bowtie around Caleb ’s neck. Her boy looked wonderfully handsome in the new clothes she’d stolen, though she wished he’d stop looking so uncomfortable when she told him as much. Maybe if she and Molly worked together they could encourage him a bit.

She hadn ’t expected it, but she knew she’d miss Molly when all this was done. He was kind, and he treated her like she was a  _ person _ . He was good for Caleb too; bringing out his laughter, his happiness, his sweeter side … She hoped he’d get to keep some of that when they left Molly. Or maybe, if she let her imagination run really wild, maybe they’d get to visit him sometimes, if everything went well. A long-shot, but a goblin had to live in hope.

And - speak of the tiefling - he chose that moment to arrive up from below deck.

She could tell, because Caleb ’s eyes flew to him at once, mouth falling open and eyes going all wide. She turned to find him loping across the deck, swishing his tail - he must have quickly opened and re-stitched a section of the seam to let it through - and clearly  _ very _ pleased with the way the simple white shirt hugged his shape. The three buttons he ’d left open at the top of it let the setting sun glint off his necklace and made her fingers itch slightly, much as she knew it was one trinket that was absolutely off-limits. Those same three buttons also drew Caleb’s eye, though she suspected for a different reason.

She supposed if Caleb had to pick someone to take a shine to, he could do a lot worse; though the circumstances and the timing would surely have it all ending in tears. He could do with some more subtlety about it, too - anyone could spot the hearts in his eyes from a mile away as they swept over Molly ’s form.

She sighed and finished her work, making sure his collar lay flat and that he stood up straight, then nudged him forward.

He stumbled a little, then rubbed nervously at the back of his neck.  “ _ Hallo _ , Molly. You are looking well …”

“Right back at you, darling,” Molly replied with a wink and a lascivious grin, beginning his shameless flirting already. Even with her boy’s obvious crush, he was lucky Caleb could be so oblivious to these things, honestly. He laid it on incredibly thick. “I have to apologise for doubting our resident fashion expert.”

“Yes, you should,” she said primly, settling herself onto the crate and scratching behind Frumpkin’s ear. “You should know I only steal the good shit by now.”

“I really should.” He chuckled and then pointedly raked his eyes up and down Caleb's body.

_ That _ , even Caleb would find hard to miss, and sure enough it had his cheeks darkening and his words falling over each other as he let Molly pull him out onto their dancefloor.

Nott began to tap out a rhythm for them, motioning for Caleb to start leading.

_ 1 – 2 – 3 _

_ 1 – 2 – 3 _

Molly fell into step with him almost effortlessly after a few moments, graduating quickly from his first uncertain steps to a flowing, elegant waltz that almost seemed practised. He was soon the one leading Caleb along, even extending their arms every so often so he could do a little spin, or attempt to have Caleb do the same. Caleb ’s shyness seemed to win out each time and Molly would give an understanding nod, moving into the next steps as though nothing had happened.

“That outfit is… truly stunning on you,” Caleb was saying as they waltzed close enough for Nott to hear.

“So you’ve said, darling. Though I could never be sick of hearing you say it.” Molly preened, basking in the attention like Frumpkin would in a sunbeam.

“I’m sure you must hear such compliments often.” Caleb was blushing as he brushed it off, his eyes suddenly very preccupied with the boards of the ship.

“Often enough,” Molly admitted. “But I still think I like them best from you.”

As they pulled away, back towards the centre of the ship, Nott heard Caleb start to inform Molly that he had questionable taste; Molly, in turn, said something inaudible, then bopped him gently on the nose, something soft in his expression.

Molly held out their arms again and let himself have another twirl before dipping a startled Caleb, who, shockingly, didn't pull away or make any kind of protest. After the initial moment of surprise, he laughed, his entire being lighting up in a way that Nott had never seen, and just gazed up in rapt adoration. An almost matching expression graced Molly ’s face as they stopped and just stared into each other's eyes and—

_ Oh, _ Nott realised.  _ Ohhh no. _

Too late, she realised this had progressed far beyond the realms of a simple crush. She ’d never seen Caleb like this before; never seen such wonder in his eyes, such peaceful adoration in his expression.

She absently ran her fingers through Frumpkin ’s soft fur as they continued, too swept away in each other to notice her rhythmic tapping had fallen away to leave them in silence. There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she thought of the complications this was sure to cause, and the almost inevitable heartbreak her poor boy would have to go through.

“Ah, Frump,” she sighed, “I never should have let them dance.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There Was An Attempt at doing nanowrimo, which is why this has taken so long. Apologies!
> 
> Thanks to Marg and Gray for the beta and as always, thanks to the WM discord for being enablers <3

Morning found Caleb and Molly sitting across from each other in the ship ’s expansive cargo hold, set to practice the final preparations for their meeting in Paris the next day. They’d claimed a space to themselves next to a little washroom that was presumably for the crew members and, as Molly reluctantly started to remove his jewellery, Caleb dragged over an ornate full-length mirror. It was taller than Caleb by a head, and felt like twice his weight as he finally managed to prop it against the wall, but it was a lucky find, so he felt he shouldn’t complain.

The last of Molly ’s assortment of piercings and trinkets came off, clinking into a small bowl with the others, and as Caleb looked over, he let out a sigh of relief. Molly was looking closer to the boy in the painting already.

_ Now for the tattoos _ _ … _

It had taken several conversations to nudge Molly around to the idea of covering them for the audience with Jester. With every carefully worded assurance he gave the man - that it wouldn ’t be a  _ lie _ , not  _ really _ , just a little tweaking to make him easier to recognise! - he could feel another smear of dirt being streaked across his soul.

What would a few more matter, though, really? He was already filthy with them.

His supplies were all set out before him and he gently turned Molly ’s face to get a better look at the peacock-feather tattoo twining up his neck and cheek. It disappeared into his ridiculously deep-cut neckline and as Caleb pulled the collar aside to get an idea of where the ink lead underneath, Molly, without breaking eye contact, shrugged the shirt off over his head and threw it aside to reveal the full scope of the artwork, as well as numerous previously-covered scars.

Caleb had seen the peacock feathers, obviously, and the lower parts of the snake that curved around Molly ’s forearm to swallow most of his hand, but saw then for the first time the scope of the two pieces, as well as how they connected and transitioned into one another.

“Ah, um. Thank you. Th-that helps.” Caleb immediately and resolutely fixed his gaze on the tattoos themselves, but in his peripheral vision he could see red eyes focused directly on him. He swore he could feel his skin heating under their intensity.

He coughed awkwardly, pulling away to buy himself a moment to regroup, before getting to work, starting to dab just along the line of Molly ’s jaw.

The soft purple skin was warm under his hand, he found when he cupped Molly ’s cheek, and he couldn’t fully suppress a chuckle when the chill of the paint made Molly flinch at first contact. A full-body shudder seemed to run from the top of his head, down his spine, right to the tip of his tail and his entire neck retreated to disappear down into his shoulders.

“Nott did the exact same the first time I used a disguise kit for her.” He smiled at the memory. He’d been less practised in those days, and had made her entire face the same unnatural porcelain shade as her mask. Needless to say, it wasn’t an attempt they’d tested outside.

“Well it’s _cold_ ,” Molly made a show of whining, putting on an exaggerated pout and looking up at Caleb from under his eyelashes.

“Look at the big brave tiefling,” Caleb laughed, gently grasping Molly’s chin to keep him steady. “He can handle sword-fights and jumping from a runaway train, but a cold sponge finally bests him.”

Molly stuck his tongue out.  “A little warning would’ve been nice, is all.”

~

They fell into a comfortable rhythm after that, Caleb dabbing away, Molly relaxed under his hands as he angled him this way and that, easy conversation passing between them. Caleb could have stayed doing this for the rest of his life and been perfectly content - his heart felt light.

After Molly ’s face and neck, he moved around to the back of his shoulders, working a little less precisely given such a large space to cover, and the fact that they’d likely be mostly hidden under clothes anyway. No matter how many times he’d used these sorts of kits on himself and Nott, it was fascinating to watch it do its job as it transformed the intricate ink into plain skin again.

The back of Molly ’s neck was delightfully ticklish, he found out as he inched the make-up gradually closer to the hairline, doing his best not to get it all over his hair. Molly couldn’t help squirming and giggling underneath him, screwing his face up and making adorable little whines in the back of his throat.

“It’s going to go _everywhere_ if you don ’t behave, you know,” he admonished, but couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his voice.

Molly just turned to stick his tongue out again.

~

Working on the tattoos to the front of Molly ’s body however, proved to be more awkward.

He found himself standing with one leg between Molly ’s thighs to follow the peacock tattoo down from where he’d stopped earlier. Molly had obligingly tilted his head to expose the long line of his neck and shoulders, and Caleb found his mouth starting to run dry as he felt the man’s breath against his skin.

The irrational urge to lean down and bite with his teeth was almost overwhelming. He wanted nothing more than to breach the last inches of space between them and just lose himself in Molly ’s presence. The idea of running his hands, his mouth, all over Molly and just absolutely  _ ruining _ his previous work was strangely appealing. Molly ’s side-long gaze was half-lidded as he ran the sponge across the exposed flesh and, though neither commented on it, he could tell they were both breathing a tad harder than necessary. It felt deafeningly loud in the silence of the space.

He thought he saw the beginning of a smirk playing across Molly ’s lips, but it was hard to be sure.

He had a  _ goal _ , he needed to remember. He had an objective. He had … an extremely handsome man half-undressed in front of him, who he was  _ supposed _ to maintain a professional air of detachment with, damn it - why could he not keep his mind on task? It wandered involuntarily as he worked, imagining the slight shudders and shivers running through Molly in a wholly different context no matter how he tried to redirect it.

The top of the shoulder complete, he found his hand shaking slightly as he started to stroke the paint towards Molly ’s chest. He swore he heard Molly suck in a shuddering breath as he swept across his collarbone and he had to actively stop his other hand from tightening into a vice on Molly’s arm.

Repression, denial, and general stubbornness had got him this far in life, so he was fairly determined to use them to get through this. Molly, on the other hand, had no such sense.

“You know, the last time a man touched me this way, we were doing something _very_ different, ” he purred, voice light and airy, barely above a murmur. His tail swished rhythmically behind him and the smirk was now definitely dancing on his lips as he leaned forward.

“I-is that so?” It came out high-pitched and completely strangled, but Caleb was just glad it had come out at all. He could feel his cheeks heating and couldn’t think of where to direct his eyes, apart from Not At Molly’s Face.

He imagined it was an attempt on Molly ’s part to break the tension -  _ had _ to be, because the alternative would be ridiculous - but given every muscle in his body felt like a rubber band about to snap, it wasn ’t working.

He hurriedly pressed the final touches onto the area he ’d been working on and stepped back out of Molly’s space, coughing awkwardly -

“This- This, ah, needs to be washed. I’ll—”

\- and with that he ducked into the bathroom, still holding the sponge and trying to remember how to breathe.

~

When he came back, Molly looked contrite, and a lot more subdued, sitting with his tail in his lap, hands fidgeting with the end of it.  “I take it that was… too much?”

“I- ah- not… necessarily, no. Just. A surprise, is all.” He felt himself flush again, but resolutely brought his eyes up to meet Molly’s. Whatever Molly saw there, it seemed to satisfy him, because he broke into a gentle smile.

“No sudden moves - that’s fair. I’ll keep it in mind,” Molly said, moving his arms to link loosely behind his back so Caleb had as much space as possible to work again.

They stayed mostly silent through Caleb ’s work on the rest of Molly’s chest, but conversation had started to break out again by the time Caleb found himself moving into the snake that wrapped its way down his arm, and their relaxed atmosphere settled into place once more.

Moving down, he could feel Molly ’s pulse against his fingers as he held his wrist, could feel its slight quickening and the warmth of the soft skin there. As he took Molly’s hand into his own, it felt so natural, so right. They met eyes for the barest second before both looked away, and he swore he saw a slight flush on Molly’s cheeks. As remote as the possibility seemed, it felt for a fleeting moment like Caleb’s feelings might not be entirely one-sided here; like if he closed the space between them, Molly’s lips would meet his gladly. The whole world could just stop for them and—

_ No! _

He needed to stop this. Immediately. The last thing he could afford to let himself do was grow an attachment here, to let himself yearn, let himself  _ care _ \- because he would still have to leave, to cut and run when this was all finished.

In the end though, he was a terrible, greedy, selfish man, and he didn ’t stop himself, didn’t pull away and put the necessary distance back between them. He let himself pretend for a few minutes while he finished up, let his touches linger as he tenderly covered the last evidence of the snake inked into the back of Molly’s hand. He was seconds away from lifting it to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss across Molly’s knuckles as a finishing touch, but managed to catch himself at the last moment.

He took a breath, pulling himself firmly back to the real world and all of its harsh realities, then brought the mirror in front of Molly so they could both admire his handiwork so far.

Without all his decoration, Molly looked much younger all of a sudden, smaller. He brought his hand up beside his face, not quite touching.  “I don’t… even look like myself…”

“Amazing what a little make-up can do, _ja_? ” Caleb, pleased with his work, had already turned back to loading more of the colour onto his sponge. “When we’re finished I need to press on some powder to make sure it stays.”

He brought his hand lower, intending to dab the purple make-up over one of many scars littering Molly ’s upper body. They all looked like they’d been made with similar weapons - ones that sliced through skin cleanly, made for drawing blood rather than exerting blunt force - though some looked to have been deeper than others. There was one further down, around the bottom of his ribcage, that looked worryingly like a blade had been  _ stabbed _ inwards, rather than sliced across. A sense of protectiveness and unease surged up in response to it - a wound like that could easily have killed him if something vital had been pierced.

He shook the thought out of his head irritably, because there he went  _ again _ . This man wasn ’t his to protect - or at least, he wouldn’t be for much longer.

As paint finally started to make contact with scarred skin, Molly ’s hands fisted in his trouser legs, his entire body going tense. “No, not— not those too. Please.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, do they hurt?” Caleb knew all too well how sensitive scar tissue could be.

He smiled wryly.  “Some of them, sometimes, but… No, that’s not why.”

“Then—”

“It’s not… right. It’s not—” Molly’s eyes were staring past Caleb into the mirror, his face like he was seeing a ghost. “This… This person you want to bring to show The Ruby Of The Sea - he isn’t _me_. ”

“I have told you several times, this is just to get you _in_ —”

“It’s not right…” Molly repeated, standing up to pace, a frantic energy suddenly building in him. “I don’t—” He broke off, shaking his head and fisting one hand in his hair. “Caleb, even if I _am_ him - if I _was_ him - I ’m _not_ anymore! Not really! ”

“Molly—”

“He’s things that I’m not. _I_ _’m_ things that _he_ _’s_ not. ” Molly twisted away from Caleb’s grip as he reached out a hand to steady him, eyes wild. “No. No, I-I have to get this _off_ me …”

He sprang up from the chair, frantic energy carrying him to the bathroom sink before Caleb could register what was going on.

“What?! _Nein_! Molly, no! ” Caleb launched after him. They were so damn close, he couldn’t let it all go to hell now.

Molly had already soaked the bathroom towel and started scrubbing it all off, practically leaning his entire upper body into the sink.

“You are being so _stubborn_! ” Caleb tried to grab it from him, provoking something close to an actual hiss from between Molly’s clenched teeth. He pulled away from Caleb, continuing the frenzied scrubbing, undoing all the careful work. “Can you not see how easily you might ruin this with your pride?!”

“ _I don_ _’t care_! ” Molly snarled and it echoed in the small space. He was still rubbing viciously at every hint of the false purple as he ran the length of his arm under the tap, contorting at impossible angles to try and reach his shoulder underneath the stream. He moved onto his face next, filling his hands and tossing it haphazardly at himself, chasing it with the now almost completely purple towel.

“If they want their little boy back, even if I _was_ him once, I can ’t give that to them! I can’t even remember him!” Molly’s hair was soaked at the front, soft curls now plastered to his forehead and rivulets of water running down his face and chest, soaking dark patches into the top of his trousers. It was difficult to tell, but it was likely not all the wet on Molly’s cheeks was from the sink.

Caleb winced, taking in the sight of where his claws had scraped across his skin in his haste to get the paint off, at the irritated darker purple where he ’d rubbed himself half raw with the towel, at the hitch in his voice.

“I’m all I have to offer, Caleb - I _can_ _’t_ go in there pretending to be anything else. ”

Caleb stood there open-mouthed, unable to find anything to say. He ’d had no idea this had been brewing in Molly’s mind.

“If she really _is_ my sister, I ’m meeting her as _me_! ” Molly clapped a hand to his chest, the smack far louder than it should have been, and sending droplets of water out from the impact. “She can either accept me for what I am now - tattoos and-and scars and dirt from the street - or… or not at all…”

And gods damn him, Caleb just  _ couldn _ _ ’t _ anymore. He couldn ’t do this to him - not when it made his voice sound like that. Not when Caleb knew all that’s waiting for him if they succeed is a tangled web of lies and false hopes.

He was a lot of things - and given that he was still on track to go through with all this, cruel just might have been one of them after all - but in that moment, he couldn ’t bring himself to be the person who forced Molly any further.

“I. I am sorry.” Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Caleb laid a hand on Molly’s shoulder. Tense as it was currently, it would be like touching a marble statue, if not for the tremors he could feel beneath his fingers. “I did not think this would cause such distress.”

The reply he got was a bitter scoff as Molly crossed his arms over his chest, but thankfully didn ’t pull away from Caleb’s touch.

He should drop this right now - and  _ gods _ , he hated himself for what he was about to propose - but whatever shreds of the plan were actually intact in his head at this point probably did still hinge on Molly ’s face being as near as possible to the young prince’s portrait.

“We don’t… We don’t really need to cover up _everything_ \- I was being overzealous perhaps - but …” Caleb moved in closer and added his hand to Molly’s other arm. “How about just the feather that’s covering your face, _ja_? Just as far as from here- ” He trailed his fingers from the top of Molly’s cheekbone to just below his jawline, prompting a shudder. “-to maybe here.”

“Caleb…” There was an ache in Molly’s voice and a twin one bloomed in Caleb’s chest. He needed to get this out quickly.

“Just that, that’s the part she most needs to recognise, you see. Then we can take it right off afterwards, after she’s gotten a clear look at you!” He let the words tumble out, hoping for no resistance, knowing that one more plea from the man in front of him would crumble the rest of his resolve to dust. “Could that be tolerable?”

There was a long, long pause.

“I— I suppose. Yeah.” Molly sighed and dragged the dripping purple hair back out of his eyes. “As long as that’s _it_ , or so help me, Caleb…”

“It is, I promise. I understand.” Caleb sighed and pulled back after giving Molly’s arm one last quick squeeze. “I think that is more than enough for the disguise kit today at any rate.” He made his way back to his bag of supplies and began to dig. “I have a liquid in the kit that will help remove the paint, and… would you like me to help you replace your decorations? Some of them seemed quite fiddly.”

It was the closest thing he could think of to a peace offering at that moment.

“I… Yeah. Yeah, that’d be nice. Just. Give me a minute would you? I need some air.” Molly wandered out to one of the walkways overlooking the sea, letting the door close behind him, and was gone a long while.

When he padded his way back to where Caleb sat - lightly tapping the back of his head against a pole while he thought on his many failings - he seemed to have settled back into himself a bit more, though what was left of the paint had dried in streaks across his skin.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could help me get all this off.” His lip wrinkled in distaste looking at the mess still smeared across his tattoos. “I could just use… absolutely _none_ of it being on me right now, if it ’s all the same.”

“Understandable,” Caleb said, already standing to press a clean cloth against the neck of the bottle, the solvent cutting straight through the remaining purple when he swept it lightly across Molly’s cheek. “And for what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

As more and more of the paint came off, the life seemed to flow back into Molly, and by the time Caleb was looping the last dangling chain through the hole in his horn, his eyes had their usual twinkling light back again. The violet-stained towel lay forgotten on the floor between them.

~

The sun was dipping on the horizon as Molly sat with his back against the side of the bunk-bed he and Nott shared. He ’d been making some more additions to his coat, but was finding it harder and harder to concentrate with the way she’d been restlessly skittering around their cabin.

Caleb, sprawled out asleep already on a rickety little cot and surrounded by their bags, was too much dead to the world to notice, which meant it was probably down to Molly to make sure she was alright.

“Penny for your thoughts, dear?”

“I still don’t trust it,” she muttered darkly, poking her head out from the top bunk and glaring out the porthole. “It’s all _big_ and _wet,_ and everywhere …”

“Caleb seems to trust it well enough.” Molly nodded towards where their wizard had collapsed about an hour before, wildly seasick after their dinner, claiming he would ‘just need to lie down for a moment’ and then he’d be fine. “And you trust Caleb - could that be enough for now?”

“Even the most brilliant man in the world has gaps in judgement,” she pronounced, “and this is one of his. It’s evil and I won’t turn my back on it for a second.”

“Alright. How ‘bout I distract you then?” Molly chuckled, beckoning her down and moving to grab an extra needle and thread from his suitcase. “Ever embroidered?”

Eyeing him suspiciously, she clambered down from the top bunk.

As he pulled his case away, Molly accidentally tipped over one of Caleb ’s bags, causing a gold-and-emerald ornament to roll out and across the floor. He had no memory of ever seeing it before and yet… it felt familiar, important. It called to him, almost.

As if in a trance he picked it up, holding it with the utmost care, and sat crouched against the bed again, turning it over and over in his hands.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Nott appeared over his shoulder. He didn’t turn to look at her face, but he knew that tone by now - her eyes were likely wide as saucers and focused on the intricately detailed trinket.

“Mm, yeah…” he hummed, still entranced by it himself. The ghost of a melody niggled at the back of his mind again, too faint to fully pin down, an itch he couldn’t quite reach to scratch—

“Molly? You ok?” A green hand passed in front of his face, startling him out of his thoughts.

“Oh. Yes. Yeah, I was… just admiring, I suppose…” The feeling of missing something absolutely vital started to seep out of its usual void in Molly’s chest. Nott was clearly about to ask a follow-up question and he suddenly, desperately didn’t want to talk about it.

He fixed a grin on his face, hoping it met his eyes, and handed the thing over before he could think too hard about it.  “But I promised you a distraction, didn’t I?”

“If you say so…” There were times the little goblin looked at people and it was like her eyes were seeing straight through into their soul - this was one of them. Thankfully, she didn’t pry any further, just took the scrap of fabric and the needle and thread he handed over.

They sat there until the sun had gone down fully, the light no longer much good to sew by, and the beginning of storm-clouds overhead gathered to blot out the moon too. Nott had learned enough of the basics to do some simple shapes, and had a cat face, a diamond, and the beginnings of an open book stitched into her fabric, ready to give Caleb when he woke. She climbed up to her bed to finish before she slept.

“Feel any better?” Molly whispered up to her.

She nodded.  “Don’t think for a second this means I won’t still be drinking myself to sleep tonight.”

“That’s fair,” Molly replied as he flopped back onto his own pillow to stare up at the bottom of the mattress above. “Just don’t be hungover in the morning.” He let out a sigh, suddenly remembering the task that would be waiting when they pulled into dock. “Big day tomorrow…”

The sense of melancholy, now with nothing left to suppress it, started to settle back into his bones and he ran his thumb over his necklace, tracing the letters of his name over and over again. He stayed like that, listening to the pitter-patter of rain and the sound of the wind starting to pick up outside, until exhaustion sent him drifting into sleep.

~

_ In front of Molly _ _ ’s eyes, wisps of green smoke curled and intertwined, moving like ink through water, diffusing and spreading until they filled his entire vision. More and more joined in, glowing brighter until eventually they coalesced above him and he found himself gazing up through a canopy of sun-dappled leaves into a cloudless summer sky. _

_ He could feel the sun _ _ ’s faint warmth, even through the partial shade, and as he brought his attention to the rest of his body, could feel soft grass around him where he lay. _

_ He stood, stepping from under the tree and letting his eyes fall closed to feel the sun on his face. It _ _ ’d been such a long, harsh winter, and the relief of it was tangible. He stood there a few seconds, savouring the peace that flowed through him, and took a single deep breath, in and out, before he began to walk… _

~

_ Mrowwwwwww. _

Frumpkin's frantic meowing and headbutting jolted Caleb awake. Outside, he could hear the sounds of an intense storm battering the ship - likely what was causing the poor cat such distress. He cracked an eye open to find the room was in complete darkness - the porthole either covered by the waves or the clouds blocking out any moonlight - and even as he went to reach out to his familiar, the entire ship lurched and sent him rolling against the wall. He wondered how it hadn ’t woken him already.

“Frumpkin? It is just a storm, come here.” Pushing away from it, he made another attempt to reach out, but found the little cat immediately climbing on top of him to howl in his face.

“ _Was ist_ \- Ahh!” He bolted upright as Frumpkin leapt from his chest, his claws drawing blood, and scrabbled to the door to start scratching at it, still howling. “Frump— what has gotten into—”

A flash of lightning from outside illuminated the entire cabin, including the very empty bed across the room from him.

“ _Molly._ ”

He was on his feet in seconds, a cold feeling of dread in his stomach, and he threw open the door. The hallway was pitch black but he threw up his dancing lights as Frumpkin bolted ahead, leading him to —

_ No _ _ … _

—the exit to the ship’s deck, where the vicious storm raged and the sea churned, ready and able to claim the life of anyone foolish enough to venture out there.

Quickly sending a command for Frumpkin to go back to the cabin, he sprinted out, the driving rain hitting him almost like a physical wall, and squinted into the darkness.

There, weaving slowly and unsteadily across the deck, was Molly. His tail trailed through the pools of water on the ground behind him and he seemed utterly unaware of what was going on around him. Caleb was almost sure his eyes weren ’t even open.

~

_ Molly felt tremendously light in this meadow - peaceful in a way he hadn _ _ ’t been in a long while. The verdant expanse of lush grass surrounded him as far as the eye could see and the sound of birds chirping filled the air. _

_ Even better, the space was filled with people, running and laughing, skipping and jumping, the children playing together and filling the scene with excited shrieks. He couldn _ _ ’t quite place them in his mind, but they felt deeply familiar and comforting. Being in their presence was like returning home at the end of an incredibly long day, and he let out a deep contented sigh. _

_ He wandered lazily amongst them, utterly unhurried, just delighting in the warm feeling that permeated the entire meadow _ _ … _

~

“ _Mein Gott._ Molly! ” Even as he shouted himself hoarse, Caleb knew it was useless - the whipping wind stole the sound away from him before it could begin to make its way to the other man - but it was all he could think to do as he scrambled across the deck, fighting for purchase on the soaking wood as the tides tipped the entire side of the ship upwards. “Please! Come back!”

He was headed for the opposite side of the deck, occasionally tipping sideways from the motion of the ship, but always returning to his dreamlike path once he had his footing again. How the man was staying upright, Caleb had no idea, but he knew whatever luck was sustaining him through this wouldn ’t hold out against the smothering force of the ocean if a wave overtook him.

Gods, he didn ’t even know if Molly could swim - not that it would help him in these conditions.

Caleb ’s own feet flew out from under him and he impacted the wooden boards with a wet smack. Ahead, Molly was so close to him and yet so far away, still advancing and unaware, even as Caleb spat out saltwater and screamed his name.

~

_ In the hazy afternoon sunshine, he found himself skipping after them, towards the edge of the grass, watching as the others leapt over the horizon and vanished. _

_ He followed, coming quickly to the point where they _ _ ’d disappeared, and discovered it was a cliff overlooking a sparkling blue pond below. Everyone was safe and sound, splashing about in the water, and the man at the centre of it all beamed and beckoned for Molly to join them. _

_ At the edge of his vision, he suddenly spotted a figure standing on a matching ledge across the water. They stood tall and broad, skin an otherworldly sort of pale with their raven-dark hair pulled into various braids that fell about their shoulders. Unlike the others, their face was hidden, but their arms were held wide, waiting to embrace him. They carried the same feeling of belonging, of relief and warmth. _

_ He felt his mouth drop open and knew, in the way you could in dreams, that he was calling their name across the expanse between them, but couldn _ _ ’t hear his own voice to know what the name was. For the first time since finding himself here, a seed of doubt began to bloom in his chest - was his purpose here to join the group in the water below or to leap the gap entirely, to join this newcomer? _

_ He stepped up to the edge _ _ … _

~

Caleb ’s heart nearly stopped.

Molly had made his shambling way to the far side of the deck and scaled the bulwarks, balancing on the ledge, his arms thrown wide and his bare toes poking out above the roaring sea. The only thing keeping him from being pulled over was a single loose hand on the rope beside him.

~

_ As he looked across, the gap seemed to be growing, the water below taking on a slightly darker hue as well. _

_ He knew whatever he chose, it would need to be quick. _

“ _We’re here!”_

“ _Come on!”_

“ _Join us!”_

_ A chorus of voices rang up from below _

“ _Molly! Take my hand!” The faceless person across from him finally spoke. Her voice sounded desperate, terrified, much younger than her form suggested. He could hear the sound of a crowd surrounding him, though the only figures were those in the water, and the high-pitched whistle of a train sounded from somewhere. The meadow grew cold around him._

“ _No! To me! Jump!_ JUMP _!_ _” The tone of the man below’s voice changed in a way that Molly felt rather than heard. Something in him, something deep and primal, told him that he did not want to be in that water._

_ Taking another look down below, he saw the inky black abyss the water had transformed into, the blank, still faces of the people who had been playing joyfully just moments ago, their bodies floating limply, and the now furious man still standing in the centre of it all, beckoning him to fall. _

_ He pulled a few steps back and took a running leap across the chasm. The woman on the other side now had her hand stretched out towards him, ready to pull him to safety. _

“ _YOU WILL COME TO ME AND DIE AS YOU SHOULD HAVE THAT NIGHT, YOU LITTLE_ BRAT _. THE ROYAL CURSE WILL BE_ FULFILLED _!_ _” An unholy, inhuman screech had replaced the man’s voice entirely now, sending a bolt of fear to Molly’s very core. He felt an iron grip around his waist and thrashed, trying to close the remaining few inches to the outstretched hand in front of him. Something in him screamed that if he could only reach that hand he would be safe, but the crushing pressure around his middle held him in place. Cold, wet hands grabbed at his ankles from below. “I WILL HAVE MY VENGEANCE AND MY REST, AT LONG LAST!”_

_ He was being pulled back, pulled down and _ _ — _

~

“ _No!_ ”

Caleb seized Molly around the waist a bare moment before he took a leap over the side - hooking his elbow around the rigging to keep from going overboard himself - and swept his struggling body into his arms.  “Molly! Molly, what are you  _ doing _ ?! Wake up! ”

“The curse! The royal curse!” Molly’s voice was high. He struggled against Caleb’s grip as they crashed back to the deck and his skin was icy cold.

“The royal— What—” Caleb shook him. He was clearly still half asleep, completely unaware of his surroundings and still fighting to pull away, back towards the edge. “Molly! Molly, it was only a dream, you were sleepwalking, you need to snap out of it!”

“I jumped, I _tried_ , but— but I couldn’t reach her! I—” he broke off, shaking his head and devolving into incomprehensible mumbling.

“You nearly leapt to your _death_ , you fool!” Caleb was about to launch into an absolute tirade - his heart thumping in his chest and his mind racing over what could have happened if he’d been a few moments later - but he caught sight of Molly’s face, of his lips moving quietly yet quickly.

“…empty, empty, _empty_ ,” Molly whispered, barely audible above the wind, eyes shut tight and his head shaking back and forth.

“Molly, what is empty? What happened?”

Molly ’s eyes flew open, like he’d barely realised he’d been reciting the word over and over. Then, very quickly - “ _ Fuck. _ ” His face crumpled and he curled in on himself, wracked with sobs. His hands were fisted, white-knuckled in Caleb’s shirt and he howled, a broken and desperate sound that had Caleb’s arms enveloping him almost without conscious thought.

“I’ve got you, _I_ _’ve got you_ , you’re alright.” He pulled them away from the edge, only letting them sink towards the floor when he felt his back hit a wall. The rain still beat against them and the sea still swelled, looking for a chance to swallow anything on deck, but it would do until he could calm the man in his arms enough to lead him inside. Molly was shivering violently, bawling tears into Caleb’s night-shirt and still constantly shaking his head.

“ _Shhh_ , it’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok…” He just kept repeating it, over and over again into Molly’s hair as he stroked it, as he held him tight, doing what he could to shelter him from the storm.

“They were _dying_ , they were all dying- _dead_ \- the _curse_ , I—”

“Shh, shh, it’s ok. Molly, it was a dream, you were sleepwalking, you’re _here_. With me. ” He gathered him even closer, heart aching at the thought of how close Molly had come to being taken by the vicious waves below them, of how easily his bright shining light could have been snuffed out. “I-I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

Another enormous wave swept over the deck and fell only a bit short of them. He curled around Molly until it had receded and then tried to pull him back up.

“We need to be inside, it’s too dangerous out here!” The wind had started to pick up again and he nearly needed to shout it to be heard.

Molly nodded mutely, eyes still streaming, but he seemed aware enough now to realise where he was. Caleb half-led half-carried him back through the door and only briefly let go of Molly to pull it shut behind him.

Before the other man could start sinking to the floor, Caleb wrapped his arm back around him.  “Just a little further, alright? You’re soaked - we need to fix that before you freeze.”

Back in their room he guided Molly into a chair while he found them some clothes.

“This. This is why we brought luggage,” he said, trying for levity as he rifled through his bags, but not quite making it. He seized the biggest shirt he owned and gently peeled Molly’s soaked one off before easing him into it. He was thankful that it fit, and quickly moved on to running a towel through the man’s dripping purple hair. Molly barely seemed to register it happening.

Caleb replaced his own soaked clothes as quickly as he could, then took a steadying breath, preparing to do something he hadn ’t had to in a long while.

He called forth a portion of his fire magic to his hands and held it there a few moments, the arcane heat thrumming under his skin and banishing the chill that was threatening to settle into his bones. He felt his body temperature rising back to where it should be, and then, when it was just reaching the point of being slightly elevated, he dismissed the magic and crouched down level with Molly, rubbing vigorously up and down his arms to bring the warmth back to them. Molly ’s eyes were still staring off into the middle distance as he shivered, tears falling silently, still only seeming vaguely aware of what was going on.

“Molly. Molly, look at me.” Caleb took his pale face between his hands. Now that his own heat had been restored, he could feel the sharp contrast, almost letting out a hiss at the icy cold against his palms. “Shh, come back to me, it’s alright. You’re safe now.”

Molly threw his arms around him and started to sob quietly into his shoulder. He was unwilling - or unable - to say what his dreams had sent to cause this, but Caleb just held him close, continuing to rub a warming hand up and down his back. The strange intimacy of being the only two souls awake in the dead of night, sharing an intense experience, kept any potential awkwardness at bay.

“You do not… have to tell me what happened, but… if you’d like I am willing to listen,” he offered after several minutes, when the tears seemed to be slowing.

“I-I don’t really _know_ anymore …” Molly confessed, barely above a whisper. “It started slipping away when you woke me, it’s almost completely lost now, I… I just know it was _intense._ And frightening. ”

“Was it to do with your lost memories?”

Molly nodded, grimacing.  “I think so, yes.”

Caleb pulled him up and started to guide him back to his bunk, grabbing his own blanket along the way to drape over Molly. He was glad the man was still too much out of it to notice and raise an objection. In fact, he suddenly looked ready to collapse where he stood.

He settled Molly limply onto the bed and then draped the covers over him, adding his blanket to the pile and tucking them all up against him. A few shivers still ran through him, but Caleb hoped the extra covers would soon fix that. He dared not use the heat of his magic for anything outside of himself, not knowing if he could stop it from burning all it touched once it left the confines of his hands.

Molly ’s eyes were half-lidded as Caleb gently smoothed the hair back away from his face and patted him on the cheek. “No more sleepwalking, alright? You frightened me half to death, you menace.”

He waited for Molly ’s weak nod before he headed back towards his own cot, thinking of practicalities. He’d tell Frumpkin to keep an eye on Molly for the rest of the night and to let him know if the shivering didn’t stop soon. He should have thought to take his bedroll from their bags too - it could function as a blanket for now—

A cold, trembling hand clasped around Caleb ’s wrist as he turned.

“Please, stay. Don’t leave me.” Molly choked out, then looked as startled to have those words tumble out of his mouth as Caleb felt hearing them. In the moonlight - now returned from behind the clouds - he seemed suddenly alert, wide-eyed, as if the fear of being left alone had burned through his daze.

“Ok.” Caleb found himself agreeing almost instantly, taken aback by the intensity behind the request. “ _Ja_. Give me a moment. ”

He quickly snapped his fingers to signal Frumpkin to come join them, then slipped in under the covers. Molly ’s body had generated no heat under there so far, and the moment Caleb made contact, he immediately clung, pressing every possible inch of them together with a whimper. He slid an arm across Caleb’s stomach and laid his head on his chest, sighing with relief at the warmth and, presumably, the sound of another person’s heartbeat. Caleb felt a blush rising in his cheeks, but reprimanded himself.

_ This is him craving warmth and comfort, not _ _ … anything else _ , he reminded himself sternly as Frumpkin settled in against Molly ’s back and began to purr soothingly. After a moment’s hesitation, he let his arm settle around Molly’s shoulders beneath the covers and fought down the irrational urge to press his lips into the soft mop of purple hair. He had no idea what had gotten into him over this man, but he was going to have to do something about it soon - it had gotten far, far out of hand.

Not now, though. Now, Molly needed a friend, needed someone to care for him, and unfortunately would have to make do with Caleb instead of somebody more useful for it.

The minutes passed mostly in silence, only the sound of their breathing as it evened out, and Frumpkin ’s purrs, filling the air. Molly’s shaking gradually started to die down, and Caleb thought he might have fallen back asleep, when—

“It’s _me_. ” Molly said out of the blue, voice low and slightly mumbled, his face still mostly pressed into Caleb’s chest. He didn’t move, just spoke.

Caleb often found it easier to communicate when he didn ’t have to see anyone’s face; maybe that was the case for Molly right now.

“What?”

“ _Empty_. It ’s me that’s empty.” Molly still didn’t move, but Caleb swore he could feel a small wet patch growing on his shirt beneath Molly’s face.

“I don’t understand…”

“When I was found, walking my feet bloody, I was just staring at my hand, repeating that one word, over and over…” Molly huddled closer into Caleb and let out a small, bitter laugh. “Or so I’m told. I… remember parts of it, mostly feelings and images, but, it’s very hazy…” The round of shaking that followed was definitely from sobbing. “I felt so _fucking alone_ …”

Caleb swore he could physically feel his own heart breaking.  “Does this happen often? That you begin to repeat it again?”

“…a few times,” he admitted after a pause. “Usually after a nightmare. The sleepwalking is certainly new though.” Another half-strangled laugh. “Can’t say I fucking care for it.”

There was another long stretch of silence, during which Caleb just rubbed a comforting hand up and down Molly ’s back.

“Caleb… Everyone says the royal family were all murdered that night… That the prince and princess were the only ones to make it out of the palace alive.” Molly barely spoke above a whisper. “Do you think he… I… might have seen it happen? Might have seen them die?”

Caleb inhaled sharply.

He knew it wasn ’t likely the prince had seen any of the violence in person, knew the twins had fled through an entirely different part of the palace, but he had no way of explaining  _ how _ he knew that without inviting too many questions. Or how it was more than likely that the prince was dead, and a complete stranger to Molly.

“I don’t know if that’s a memory I _want_ back, ” Molly continued before Caleb had a chance to think any further. “There was death in my dream. Danger. _Loss_. Caleb, what if —”

He began to break down again and Caleb gathered him up, pulling him in as much closer as he could get, desperately ignoring the tide of self-loathing that was crashing through his own head.  _ He _ had done this to this poor unsuspecting man. He had filled his head with false promises and tales of the prince ’s tragedy, and never stopped to think what a burden they might be. “Hush, shh. These aren’t things to be thinking at this time of night. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

He pulled the blankets higher, tighter around Molly ’s trembling form and kept up his stream of soothing words, never letting go of his hand, softly petting his hair. He sent out a command to Frumpkin to move to curl up with them under the covers instead, and Molly immediately started running his hands through the cat’s fur.

His wet eyes came up to meet Caleb ’s and they looked  _ so _ trusting and  _ so _ grateful, Caleb nearly felt his heart split in two.

Twin thoughts echoed through his mind as he watched over Molly ’s slow, utterly exhausted descent back into sleep. Both had been building for awhile, but were now too strong for even Caleb - skilled as he was at denial - to ignore anymore.

The two thoughts, almost inextricably linked, finally made their way to taking precedence over all the rest.

The first, urgent and brimming with guilt:

_ I can _ _ ’t  _ do _ this to him anymore. _

The second was, if possible, even more distressing:

_ I think I have fallen in love with him. _

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to yell about Critical Role with me, you can find me at lucyinthesoupwithcroutons on tumblr!
> 
> (Btw I never know whether to reply to comments or not, but know I absolutely *THRIVE* on them and appreciate each one <3)


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